#but I pray that the blue will become lighter and lighter and eventually turn into a beautiful bright sky

[cametotheshowinsd]

Who would you be sad with? And who would you deal with when they were sad? Grey skies every day for months, would you still stay?

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

i have a mad thomas x reader request where reader is forced to marry thomas (idk how just-) and is disgusted about it but eventually ends up liking him.(? idk how to explain myself:’)

No one look at me,,,,,,,,,,also this is heavily inspired by the Scarlet Letter and was supposed to be a tad darker but I copped out (also someone asked for a pregnant reader recently so this + that = this fic)

A Lie They Would Believe (Mad Thomas x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: dark themes, 1600 standards, values, and laws, affairs/cheating, ex-relationship with the pastor is mentioned, Thomas is Thomas, mentions of drinking, webs of lies, public humiliation, AFAB and Fem reader, pregnant reader, pre-marital pregnancy solved a la shotgun marriage, twisted win-win situation turns into love?, slow burn(?),

Word Count: 3.7k

You could accept your punishment with a turned cheek, you told yourself over and over again.

You could stare out at the audience of towns people, even as the sun beat on your face. You could stare out into the angry faces of the elders, into the pitying faces of your friends. Into the ashamed faces of your parents. But, you could not look at Cyrus Miller.

You'd missed your blood two months ago. You'd begged, prayed, everyday that it would come. But, the only thing that came was the morning sickness. You'd tried to hide it, tried to think of what to do. But, when you placed your hand over your stomach, you couldn't bring yourself to find the hag in the forest. And, when your mother held your spotless, white sheets in your face, you'd crumbled. You confessed in the privacy of your room as if you were confessing in church. You told her everything.

Well, almost.

"Tell us his name!" Cyrus said, a voice that you couldn't force to fall into the background. "Tell us the name of your accomplice and you shall suffer no more." He said, and you wanted to believe him. You let your eyes close for a moment, but your lips did not move. Your mouth did not open. "Tell us the father's name, so that your baby will not be born a bastard!" He said, and his hand reached out to grab your arm. His grip was strong and tight, unlike the caresses you'd become so accustomed to with him. While his words begged you to say the name, his name, the action spoke differently. You peeled open your eyes and looked up at him, at his raven hair and kind face. His dark, soft eyes. Tears pricked the corners of your own eyes, hard and glassy as you looked up at him. But, you were silent. Even as some of the townspeople yelled for you to confess.

But, how could you tell them that it was your persecutor who was the father of your child? That your pastor, the leader of this town, had sinned so egregiously? He had a wife, a daughter. You'd known both of those things when you'd fallen for him, but it was harder to ignore in the harsh sunlight. When both of them stood in front of you.

You knew you'd have to face punishment. Sex before marriage was a crime after all, completely forbidden. To think they didn't know you were an adulterer also. You didn't know what it'd be, but you knew you'd have no option but to accept it when it came. You'd already made your peace with it, made your peace with whatever God could condemn you to. Perhaps, you'd have to live alone, wear a scarlet letter on your breast. Perhaps, they'd cast you out completely, and you'd be shunned. Perhaps, they'd hang you. You touched your stomach at that thought. Perhaps, there were certain punishments you couldn't bear.

Your lips only fell open when a voice yelled,

"It was I." And a gasp fell from your mouth. Your head turned, snapped towards the voice. Towards the sea of faces that was the crowd. But, you knew that voice. "It's my child." He said, and your eyes fell on a face you knew all too well. And, at that moment, you knew exactly what type of punishment God had set out for you.

Mad Thomas.

***

The day had gone by in a blur.

Over and over in your head, one question repeated itself. Why? It was almost loud enough to drown out the constant whispers, the stories being spun by every person who seemed to have a tongue.

Union couldn't seem to stop talking about it. Of when it started, how long it'd been going on, when the pair of you had even had time to sneak off. You'd even heard a young Constance Berman whisper about how she'd always known something was going on between the two of you, only to be shushed by her older sister as you passed. As you'd been let free of the top of the church steps.

You'd been left outside, left out in the sun. Inside the church went your father, the pastor, and Thomas. You had no idea what Thomas was going to say, what lies he was going to spin.

You couldn't bring yourself to leave, to speak. You felt as though a blanket of white noise had covered your ears, covered your mind. You were surprised, to say the least. You'd thought a wave of devastation had washed over you the first moment you'd realized you were with child, but this? It made it seem like ripples in a pond. The only thing you could do was stare at the church door and wait for them to come out. But, you felt a warm arm wrap around your waist and you turned to see the face of your mother.

"Come," She said, and you looked back at the door blankly. You didn't want to leave. You wanted to be there when they came out. But, you couldn't find the words to say or the strength to keep your feet firm. So, you let her guide you away from the crowd, and towards your house.

It was only later that you were told you and Thomas were to be married by the end of the month.

***

You and Thomas were never allowed a moment alone. You didn't know whether to be relieved or not, but Thomas, a man who you quickly found was far more confusing than you thought, was playing a charade. He brought you flowers, carried your water pail for you, and even took you on chaperoned walks. You, however, were stony and stiff, barely able to contain your disgust for him. It was on your first walk that you whispered,

"Why? Why are you doing this?" And, for a moment, the incorrigible man seemed to pretend not to hear you. He glanced over his shoulder, as if the wind was at his ear instead, and you saw him cast a sly glance to the man behind them. It was one of your father's friends, walking only about two yards behind you. Finally, when he decided he was far away enough, he responded,

"Would you rather I had let them cast you out? Let you and your child starve in the woods?" Thomas said back, the most sober you'd ever heard him. It seemed that apart of your father's deal with him was that he cut back on the drink. He didn't even stumble as he walked.

"Don't pretend you did this out of charity. Why, Thomas?" You asked, and you, for only a moment, reached out to touch his arm. You pulled it back just as quick, hoping that your chaperone hadn't seen. Thomas looked down at the action, before he smirked and shook his head.

"Aren't we a perfect match?" He asked, and you gave him a look of confusion. He continued with, "You think I don't know what people say about me? Don't you see, girl? It doesn't matter if your father is the best woodworker, or the richest in Union anymore. No one would have you, or your bastard child. Except me." He said, and you almost couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He continued, his words a whisper now, "Besides, it's a lie they would believe." You stared at him, flabbergasted by his words. Flabbergasted by how right he was.

Thomas had, well, a reputation. It wasn't out of character for his wedding to be one out of necessity, and perhaps it earned you some pity from the townspeople. How many women had Thomas seduced? And how many of them could truly judge you? Not to mention, his words left one thing clear.

So, it was my dowry, you thought. It wasn't an unheard of reason, and it made sense given the man you were talking to. Your father had been avoiding selling you off, even as you reached far into your womanhood. And, surely, your father would never have considered him under any normal circumstance, but now...You didn't seem to have much of a choice.

Thomas paused, picking up one of the wildflowers and handing it to you. You took it, knowing now that you had to play along. That you had to act as if he truly was the father of your child, and not someone as foreign to you as the land outside of Union.

"Your father was going to start building us a house. I was thinking right here," Thomas said, his voice only slightly louder for the chaperone to hear, but you barely paid attention. You were staring down at the yellow flower in your hands, before you glanced up at the man in front of you.

He was tall, but his hair was lighter. His cheeks were stubbly and his eyes- They were a clear blue. Almost the same shade as the sky above you. You watched as he talked, as he laid out his plan. And, while the idea of being married to anyone that you didn't love sickened you, you tried to tell yourself that it wouldn't be as terrible as you felt it would be.

***

You and Thomas sat out in the sun, where you were making a flower crown and he was rambling about one thing or the other. You'd gotten very good at pretending to be in love, even in the span of only a couple of weeks.

You gave him smiles and laughter, and he gave you gifts or stole a caress. It was enough to stir the people of Union so no one would be the wiser. And, with your father at his station a short way across the field, the pair of you could be somewhat alone. But, still within viewing distance.

"You're not listening." Thomas said, and you smiled to yourself for a moment. You looked at the finished crown, before you looked up and reached over to where he was laying on the blanket. He was half-sitting up, and you placed the flower crown atop his head as you said,

"Yes, I was." You replied simply as you adjusted it, and Thomas stared at you and gave a small scoff. He caught your hand as you went to pull it away, his grip loose. He held it almost gently, and said,

"Then kiss me." And your brows drew together. A quick,

"What?" Fell from your lips, and you watched how Thomas smiled. He laughed, letting your hand go as he said,

"So, you weren't listening-" But you were quick to interrupt him.

"Why would- Why?" The idea- the simple idea was preposterous. Why would you kiss him? In broad daylight no less? The suggestion made you nervous, made a weird feeling start in your stomach. And, you ignored how this feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar.

"They're going to expect us to kiss on our wedding day, girl. Shouldn't we have some practice?" He said, and you thought perhaps the first time he proposed it had been kinder. You stared at him, thinking over his words. Thomas waited, reaching out to touch your skirt. It was only to pick at it for a moment, before he drew his hand away.

You couldn't tell if that was the only reason Thomas wanted to kiss you, if there wasn't some ulterior motive somewhere. You wouldn't put it past him. But, really, he was right. Not to mention, while the pair of you had been affectionate, had you been affectionate enough?

That's what was so aggravating about Thomas. He was always right. He saw clear through whatever facade anyone put up, and saw the truth. Perhaps, that's why he was such a good liar.

Perhaps, that's why he was staring at you.

"Fine." You said, before you looked over your shoulder. You were in the field, but you were more or less a public spectacle. You could hear Thomas draw closer, feel the warmth of his hand reach for your arm.

"Let them look." He said as he gave a tug on your arm, and you turned back to face him. It was strange to hear him say that, such a stark difference from what you were used to. To have him so close was different than before, but Thomas didn't close the gap. You supposed he was waiting for you to do that. He whispered, "Well?" And, finally, you did. It was a short kiss, a quick stolen one. Still, it made Thomas smile. "So chaste." He let out a small laugh, and it was your turn to scoff. "Are you sure-" And you could guess what he was going to say. You kissed him again, if only to silence him. It was deeper, firmer than your last had been. And you hated to admit that you didn't hate it. Thomas was well-practiced, and the feeling of his thumb grazing your cheek was nearly as warm as the feeling of the sun on your back. It made another feeling start, one that you tried to stamp out that very second. You pulled away again, cutting it short. Thomas, for just a moment, tried to follow you before he pulled back. He had a small smile on his face, one he didn't try to hide as he pushed his hair back.

"You're practiced." You said quietly, the closest thing to a compliment you could give him. You'd heard rumors of him galavanting with the likes of Abbi Berman and some of the others. Perhaps, there was some truth to them. Thomas glanced over, and returned the words,

"Aye, so are you." When he smiled and glanced down at your belly, you knew the jab had been intended. And, unfortunately, he'd managed to make you laugh.

***

You knew it was coming. You had prepared yourself for it. Before the wedding, the pastor would counsel both of you. And, he was going to counsel you first.

You stood in a dress your mother had made, with your corset done loosely as not to press on your stomach. You'd been staring out the window, at the cloudless day and the happy faces of your town. Why shouldn't they be happy? It was the day for a celebration.

You'd even caught glimpses of Thomas. Your mother was fussing over him, and Issac had swiped his pouch. He looked- Well, you could tell he'd been scrubbed down. Most of his teeth were still black, but in clean clothes and with a clean face...Perhaps, he didn't look terrible. You tilted your head, and, almost as if he could feel you staring, Thomas' head turned. He caught your eyes, and reflected your posture with a tilt of his own head. It made you smile, something you found was less forced the more time you spent with him. Your head turned from him when you heard someone come in.

"Wonderful day for a wedding." Cyrus said as he closed the door to the chapel, and you tried to manage a smile. "Sit." He said, and gestured to one of the pews. You did, and you both kept your distance. The chapel was dim, only lit by the light outside. The pair of you were silent for a moment, before Cyrus said, "The magistrate is here. He seems eager to start. Do you," He paused for a moment. "Do you have any doubts?" And you felt that the question was not quite as empty as anyone else would think.

You'd been staring at your hands, and you finally lifted your gaze to him. To his deep, dark brown eyes. After a moment, you found your voice.

"None at all. Thomas is- He shall be the father to his child, and he shall be my husband. I shall do my duties, and, I- I love him." It was hard to say, at least when Cyrus sat in front of you. "What is there to doubt?" You asked, your question equally as heavy. While none of you would say it plainly, you knew from the way he looked over your face that he understood you perfectly. The pair of you would never confess your secret, and you'd let the hatchet be buried. Forgotten.

"Does he know?" Cyrus asked, and you knew what it sounded like. In case any of the others were listening. Like he was asking if your soon to be husband knew you loved him. The question couldn't be more disguised. Really, his eyes said, Does he know about us?

"Yes. Or, I think he does." You replied, and you watched how Cyrus reached to touch his clean-shaven face. His face was half hidden by his hand, but you could see his eyes were disturbed. A secret was harder to keep the more people knew, but you said, "And he loves me. He'd do anything to keep this union." You told him, and you hoped he got your meaning. When Cyrus glanced at you, you guessed he did. Silently, your eyes said, If he does, Thomas won't tell. And, after a pause, Cyrus let out a sigh.

"Then, there seems little I have to counsel you on."

***

"Have you thought of a name?" Thomas asked you, and you hummed.

You were picking at your sheet, looking towards the window. It had been months, five if not nearly six. Your baby was due in only a few weeks now, and you still hadn't decided. Your husband, a word to describe him that didn't seem so weird now, laid besides you facing up towards the roof.

Thomas, well, he was not what you thought. He had a good, if not sometimes strange, sense of humor, and did not bruise easily from even the harshest words. He could take care of himself, after years of doing so, and, subsequently, you as well. Your mother and the mid-wife still came by to make sure you were in good health, but Thomas had most of it handled. He was a little lazy when it came to work, especially the work your father tried to give him, but he seemed to find that the work that came with having his own house agreed with him. The pair of you had become- Well, familiar. That was the word you would use. You couldn't say, nearly six months later, that it was still just pretending.

Still, Thomas didn't touch you in any way you wouldn't want him to, and you had to lift your head to throw a glance back to him.

"I have some ideas. Perhaps, if it's a girl," You paused, a sly grin coming to your face, "We could name her Abigail." And you watched him scoff and roll his eyes, even lift his head off of his arm for a moment as he said,

"Absolutely not." And you snickered to yourself as you went back to facing away from him. It was just a jest, a reference to an old dalliance of his, but Thomas, if anything, was fun to tease. The only issue was that Thomas was just as sharp when it came to his wit. "Y'know- Fine. Then, if it's a boy, we shall name him Cyrus." And you let out a noise of protest. You tried to roll over, declaring,

"No!" And now it was Thomas' turn to laugh. He placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to ease you back down. You let him, and even reached to hold his arm. To pull him closer. He followed, and you guided his hand above your bulging stomach as the pair of you adjusted. "Fine- Neither of those names. But, we must think of something." You told him, feeling as he stretched his fingers over where your baby grew. He held you, his warmth against your back. His hand rubbing your stomach lightly.

It made a strange sense of warmth fill you, one you couldn't blame from body-heat. And, it wasn't so terrible that you tried to push it, or him, away.

***

"She cries like no other child in Union." Thomas said as he climbed into your bed. You were supposed to be resting, healing, even weeks, nearly two months, after your child's birth. You felt like you'd been confined to your bed for so long that you were starting to become a part of it. Thomas was only here for the break your father gave him half-way through the day. Still, you smiled to yourself from where you laid on your side, and said,

"Perhaps, it is your smell that disturbs her." You said, your voice thick with sleep but a cheeky grin working onto your face. You shouldn't have prompted him, because he took the opportunity to drape himself heavily over your back.

"Oh, should I sleep outside tonight then?" He asked, and you giggled when you felt his stubble tickling your cheek.

It was already long into the day, and you'd become lazy from bed-rest. It felt far too nice to have his warmth wrapped around you, to where you nearly wanted to fall asleep. You had grown too used to it now, and you could barely imagine a night without it.

"I never said that." You responded, and turned your face back towards the softness of your pillow. You felt Thomas' hand raise, his fingertips brush against your cheek. He was being brave, especially when you felt his lips brush against your neck. It made you bite your lip, a twinge of something not so unfamiliar swirling in your belly. You wondered if he would continue. Hell, you wanted him to. But, it was nothing more than that.

Thomas, to your surprise, had more restraint than you would've assumed. He kissed your cheek, went to stand, and excused himself with,

"Your father will begin to wonder where I am." And you lifted your head to watch him step away, before you settled back down. He was clean, cleaner than he had been when he'd been sleeping in the outhouse. His hair was softer and longer, tied away from his face. And his arms seemed stronger, perhaps from the days of working with your father. He was, if you dared to think so, a kind sight to your eyes now. "Sleep. I'll be back by the time you wake." He told you, and, as he left, you found yourself hoping he was right.

[harrystylesleftkneecap]

JJ the comedian

Warnings : Slight smut, mention of death, alcohol, drugs, JJ being annoying, 

Summary: JJ loved making inappropriate jokes, and when they become centered around you, the whole gang gets suspicious. 

***GIF ISN’T MINE, ALL WRITING AND IDEAS ARE. I USED SOME DIALOGUE PROMPTS I FOUND OFF THE INTERNET***

JJ was notorious for being inappropriate. Pope often scolded him for it, while John B enjoyed his naughty jokes most of the time. Kie hated them obviously. And you rather enjoyed them as well. Until the comments began centering around you. 

“JJ can you hand me that pen?” You asked, as he sat across from you. You were working at the wreck with kie, and the boys decided to come keep you some company in your last hour. 

“Of course.” He replied, taking the writing utensil between his fingers. 

He extended his arm to hand it to you, and you reached to take it from his grasp. Before you could grab it, he jerked it away. 

“Beg for it.” He smirked. 

This caused the other two boys beside him to snicker. 

your face was hot with embarrassment. Although nobody knew what went on between the two of you behind closed doors, just the thought of the others thinking about you begging JJ for something was enough to make your heart race. 

“JJ, c’mon.” You groaned, attempting to swipe the pen from his calloused hands. 

He only held it farther form your reach, “C’mon, not like you haven’t begged me for anything before.” He teased.

This caused the boys to erupt in laughter.

You squinched your eyes together and pinched your nose. 

There it was. 

You knew his joke would get worse eventually, but you were praying to any higher power there was to simply prevent that from happening. 

Kie scoffed before snatching the pen from his grasp and pulling you away from the unruly mess JJ had created. 

She handed the pen to you and you fanned your face. You got embarrassed so easily, and it was always obvious to those around you. Your tell being the crimson splotches that would litter your body. There was no way you could effectively serve customers like this. 

And part of you realized JJ knew that. 

“He is such an ass, “ Kie began ,”But really, have you been begging for things behind closed doors?” 

“Kie! Not right now!” You huffed, storming into the back of the kitchen. 

The summer heat of the outer banks was beating down on your skin. You groaned as you rolled over on to your back, attempting to find a more comfortable position. 

JJ was peacefully (for once) rolling a joint while John B and pope were fishing. Kie kept up small talk with you as the two of you tanned on the deck of the boat. 

Eventually, you found JJ hovering over you with a freshly rolled joint in his hand. He extended it towards you and you gladly accepted. As you took the smoke into your lungs, you immediately relaxed. Happy to finally be enjoying some time with your friends. 

JJ eyed you as your head fell back, and your breath fell past your lips as a smoky cloud. 

“You know y/n, we could get naked.” he spoke, causing you to snap your head back to him. 

“JJ!” You scolded, earning a few immature giggles from the fishing boys. 

“What, it’s not my fault you keep turning me on.” He taunted, as you shot daggers through his thick fucking skull. 

You stood from your towel and his eyes widened. In fear, and also partially excitement. JJ loved getting a rise out of you, but he was also very much afraid of you. 

“What-”

A large splash followed the motion of you shoving JJ over the side of the HMS pogue. 

“Atta girl.” John B snickered, watching his friend resurface from the water. 

You laid back down on your towel, joint still in hand, as JJ clambered back over the side of the boat. 

As a hurricane roared outside the chateau, rather loud music was blasting on the inside. 

The five of you were drunk- well you were drunk, you could only assume the state of the others. 

You and kie danced to a random song as the boys played cards on the counter. 

L.A love by the one and only Fergie blasted through the small speaker, you and Kie feeling the music running through you. 

At this point you and kie were borderline dirty dancing as the boys watched from a far. 

“That’s kinda hot.” John B quipped, before laying a full house down in front of him. 

“You got that right.” JJ said, taking a hit of his JUUL. 

Your bodies repeatedly dropped and twisted, your ass shaking in your small pajama shorts. 

The song ended, and the two of you made your way over to the boys in fits of giggles. 

JJ smiled as you walked to him, and he swung and arm around your waist pulling you into him. 

“were you trying to turn me on back there, or are you that oblivious?” He asked you. 

In your drunken state, you only giggled, letting a soft maybe tumble past your lips. 

“there is definitely something going on between them.” Pope grumbled, taking a sip from his beer as you and JJ shamelessly flirted with each other. 

“I would bet money on that.” John B laughed. 

And they were right. There was something going on between the two of you. It all happened one night at a kegger. You had just lost your mother, and you were doing your best to put up a front and have fun with your friends. 

after several beers and unfortunately a few cigarettes, you found yourself sobbing in the chateau living room. After losing sight of you a while ago, JJ decided to try and find you. 

He stumbled in the doors only to find you crying on the couch. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked softly, bending down and taking your face from your hands. 

You didn’t answer. Your eyes mesmerized by his glassy blue ones. This is the first time you actually had a good look at the boy. His pink chapped lips sat perfectly on his face. His light stubble glistening from the beer remaining on his lips. His cheeks were flushed, and you don’t think you had ever seen anyone so beautiful before. 

“no, i’m not.” You finally sniffled, tearing your eyes away from his. 

“I know it’s hard y/n, but we’re gonna get through this together.” He told you. 

“I don’t care, I just want to stop hurting.” You said, using your shirt to wipe the tears falling from your eyes. 

You looked back into his eyes, and you made a swift decision. 

You placed your hands on either side of his face, inching closer to him. 

“Y/n what are you doing?” He whispered, and you shook your head. 

“Just, please. I want to feel something other than pain.” You whispered back. 

“I can’t, you’re not in a good state righ-” 

“JJ.” You stopped him. You could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“please” you muttered. 

You closed the gap in between you, pressing your soft plump lips to his contrasting chapped ones. 

You only barely pulled away to say, “I just want to stop hurting, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

JJ’s eyes softened as his replied, “Okay, I can do that.” 

He wrapped his arms under your legs and he carried you to the spare bedroom. 

You hadn’t really even made an agreement, when you were hurting you came to him. and vice versa. Eventually, it just happened more and more. You spent more nights together than anyone would have ever imagined. And the causal comfort of one another soon blossomed into something much more. 

Nobody knew anything, until one morning John B went to wake JJ for an early morning fishing trip. 

 Without knocking, he entered his room. Not to be met with one sleeping figure, but two. And upon closer inspection, he realized who was wrapped up in his best friends arms. 

He moved quietly to wake JJ, and when his eyes opened he realized his position. 

Careful not to wake you, he whispered to John B, “Give me like 5″ 

When JJ finally entered the kitchen, John B sent him a questioning glance. 

“What?” JJ asked, reaching for a box of cereal. 

“What was that back there?”

“Nothing, we’re just friends.”

“Yeah, because I wake up naked with my friends all the time.” John B scoffed. 

JJ just rolled his eyes, not wanting to get into this at the moment. 

Pope noticed a pink toothbrush in the bathroom of JJ’s bathroom one morning. Confused, he brought it to the porch where the rest of you were seated. 

“Uh, JJ?” He asked

JJ turned to look behind him, seeing pope with a pink toothbrush in his hand. 

He gestured to the object and sent JJ a questioning glance. 

“It’s y/n’s man, you got a point here?” JJ Replied, attempting to light the joint that was hanging from his lips.  

“Yeah, why is it in your bathroom dude.” He remarked. 

“Because she brushes her teeth.” 

“Obviously JJ, But why your bathroom. Why not the spare?” He teased. 

“Because I was brushing my teeth in his bathroom pope, It’s not that hard to understand.” You scoffed, taking your toothbrush from his hand and returning to JJ’s bathroom to put it back where it belonged. 

JJ shot Pope a look that said “I told you so”

“I just thought it was odd since John B found you two naked in bed the other day.” Pope spoke as he sat down. 

JJ dropped the lighter from his hand as the joint fell from his open mouth, making John B and pope raise their eyebrows knowingly.

“JB are you kidding me?” He whispered yelled, wiping the ash off of his shorts. 

“What man, you said it was nothing, so I didn’t think You’d mind if I told him.” John B laughed. 

You sarah and Kie were having a girls night one night. Doing face masks and hair as girls usually do. 

“Hey y/n, I was wondering If you and JJ wanted to go on a double date with me and John B?” sarah asked. 

“What? why?” You laughed, thinking it was odd. 

“Oh, I thought you two were a thing, john B said he found you two in bed with each other the other morning.” She smirked. 

Before you could respond Kie yelled, “HE FOUND YOU TWO WHAT NOW?” 

JJ roughly pressed his hips to yours, you had your hands in his hair and the air in the van was getting thicker by the second. 

“JJ please.” You moaned, lifting your hips to meet his. 

“I don’t think we have time y/n, they just ran in for a minute.” He responded, breathing into your mouth as your tongues danced with each other.

You gripped his biceps and groaned when he ground right down onto your heat. 

“Please J, we can be fast.” You whined.

contemplating, he rose to check if the others were walking out of the store. As his eyes reached the thresh hold of the window, he was met with the faces of John B, pope and kie. 

They all had knowing smirks plastered on their faces, and he sighed, collapsing down on top of you. 

“Not fast enough.” He groaned. You were confused until the back door of the van opened. You turned to meet the faces of your friends. 

“He he , hey guys. Uh, how long have you been there?” You laughed nervously, fumbling to get out from underneath the larger boy. 

“Long enough.” Kie laughed, throwing your tank top at you. 

Suddenly very hot, you pulled the material over your head and attempted to fix your disheveled hair. You could feel the splotches forming over your body.

“so, just nothing right?” John B quipped. 

You turned to see JJ looking at you. 

“Uh, “You turned back to your friends ,” No?” You spoke 

They laughed and Pope spoke, “I knew those fucking jokes meant something, how could we be so blind.” He said dramatically. 

Embarrassed, you hung your head low as they all piled into the van. 

JJ pulled you into a kiss before saying, “well y/n, our relationship is out now.”

You smiled as the others turned to look at the two of you. 

“Aw, the only thing better than seeing you smile baby is seeing you orgasm.” JJ smirked, causing everyone to groan as John B turned to start the Van. 

There it was 

“JJ!”

[mellow-em]

Bedlam (Sam Drake)

CHAPTER 1: LEFT BEHIND

The life she had built in only a year had disintegrated, and she was set on her stubborn mindset of finding her purpose away from Jackson.

I DO NOT OWN ANY TLOU OR UNCHARTED CHARACTERS! ALL RIGHTS GO TO NAUGHTY DOG!

(This is a tlou x uncharted crossover. It’s set in tlou universe, but its a fic between an oc of mine, and Sam! I’m not sure how this is gonna turn out so please bear with me)

Prologue

_________________________________

-ABOUT 3/4 YEARS LATER-

Nevada, U.S.

_________________________________

The green inferno of the forest surrounding me was almost suffocating at this point, not to mention my lungs burning from the treacherous run I had to commit to in the boiling temperatures of Nevada not even a few moments ago.  

This trip was supposed to be a simple one to retrieve food, scope out the area, and return to the base I developed overtime. Though, I guess it was my fault to even consider it a non-lengthy adventure, with the infected still coursing through the entirety of the world.

It almost felt like my backpack was weighing on my entire body as I lazily slid myself down against the base of a tree to sit myself onto the foliage. As my  momentary vitality wore away, my limbs weakened with every passing second.

Running aimlessly for your life was the only thing that annoyed the hell out of me, mainly because it happens so often now.

It was mainly caused by the wide ranges of infected that have been circulating this area for weeks, all while trapping me within their circulation as I ventured further into the forest.

Since then, there had been little to no escape from their confinement in the middle of the woods. I would need to break for it sooner or later.

While I knew it was a huge risk, I couldn’t also risk dying from famine or another natural circumstance. Joel had always told me it was ridiculous of me to perceive death as a triumphant experience that needed to be commemorated and memorable.

But to me, if I died from a natural cause, I would feel as though it could be added to the list of wasted opportunities for something all the more grand.

The mind fog slowly engulfing me was blown away by a branch cracking not too far from where I was sitting.

My ears, along with my attention, perked up by the sudden noise.

Shit.

My hand slowly glided across the side of my hip, reaching for what I pray could be a good defense. I felt the slightest bit of relief when I grazed the handle of my switchblade.

The wooden handle was carved smoothly to encase the sharpened metal end; it was something beautifully valuable to me, as it was one of the things that I had left that reminded me of Jackson, and of my surrogate family.

The family I left behind.

There was another small detonation of what now sounded to be leaves crunched on the dirt. Whomever or whatever it was, it wasn’t moving quickly.

My mind first created the image of a clicker, though its grotesque voice wasn’t echoing throughout the trees. My thoughts began to charge as I began contemplating my next move.

As the noises got closer towards the trunk I hid myself behind, my breathing became ragged and unsteady. Growing more frantic, I discarded the knife idea, and reached for my revolver that was wedged into its holster.

Slowly pulling the gun out, my hands gripped it with a force that turned my knuckles into flaming snow. The heartbeat I carried within me scorched in my throat, creating a lump I very much needed to swallow.

I gulped down the blockage harshly, reverberating a sound too loud considering the condition of my surroundings. I cursed myself out in my head for it, knowing I’d have to turn the safety of the gun off not too long after.

I hoped intelligence of what was traveling closer to me was slim to none, mainly because anyone with an average IQ could probably recognise the sounds and cause a scene.

I suck in a cavernous breath, only to release it with a shaken state packaged alongside.

I close my eyes, and prepare for the worst, before raising from my stance on the ground.

My gun was firmly held in front of me, as if it were a barrier from all evil. I only took the time to stare at the culprit of the echoing commotions for a second, before pressing my fingers down on the trigger. 

A low pitched grunt reverberated through my ears, along with the blare of a gunshot. The figure jerked slightly from it’s position while doing so, creating a brief stumble. 

As I lowered the gun from it’s stern position in my hands, an overwhelming wave of tension froze my body in place. 

My thin eyebrows retracted from being furrowed from anger to worry, as did the slight wrinkles present on my features from years of age and affliction. 

The menace responsible for my frightened, yet threatening state wasn’t any form of the fungal infested beings that surrounded this forest.

It was a man.

His back was slightly turned, though I was able to take in a few of his features. His hair was a lighter brown, with the sun brightening its shade by a ton. It was fairly short, though it looked as though it had been neglected.

He held a navy blue long sleeve on his back, with dirt particles, along with sweat coating it altogether. It was fairly warm where we were, so it was apparent that he either wasn’t from here, or he didn’t know how to properly succumb to the weather. 

My eyes then traveled down to his lower back. It was drenched in a hauntingly beautiful shade of crimson. I could clearly hear the rapid breaths fuming from his mouth, almost in the form of a wheeze too. God what have I done.

As soon as I finally had the strength to take a step towards him, his breath hitches. He whips around to face me, giving me an opportunity to take in his face.

I noticed his shrewd blue eyes that were almost a shade of sapphire. Though, I was able to pinpoint multiple blotches of green and lighter hues of turquoise.

Overall though, his eyes were glossed over with sheer pain along with an obvious smudge of exhaustion. 

He held a small amount of stubble along the lines of his sharp jawline and chin. But again, it looked to be just as unkempt as the rest of him. He was a mess of course. But, courtesy of me, he was an even bigger disaster. 

 His face continued to contort in pain, much to my guilt and dismay. The unknown state of his physical trauma unnerved me to no end; I needed to look at the damage I’ve caused for myself. 

“Lift your shirt,” I simply croaked, with me then earning a look of defiance with a hint of panic.

“Why should I-”

“Christ do you wanna die out here?,” I questioned rhetorically, which surprisingly shut him up swiftly.

I knelt down towards the covered wound, though a strong tear was visible on his shirt. 

“Fuck, it shot straight through.” I mumbled to myself, with a string of curse words following after. 

I inspected the shredded fabric for a little longer before remembering the constraint that potential death was forcing him to endure. The pads of my fingertips grazed the shirt gently.

His eyes travel to my hands, watching my fingers place themselves on the hem of his shirt to lift it. 

My eyes widened slightly as I notice his shirt was snug on the wound, most likely making it impossible to lift it without more pain than normal. 

And with that action, a wave of anxiety visibly washes over him, “what is it?”

“Your shirt is stuck to it-.. this is gonna hurt”

“It’s okay I've had wors- oh crap,” his voice crumbled as he hissed the words out, his speech faltering due the pain. 

“Sorry- shit” I stop for a moment to gently life the shirt from the bloodstained skin of his lower abdomen before continuing to raise it any further. Once the shirt was detached from clinging to him, my fingers hoist the shirt upwards delicately, as the man still continues to wince in distress.

The whole mess on his stomach was the scene of a bloodbath; revealing the reason for the floods of ichor that canceled out the tones of his tanned skin.

It was something that definitely can create a burden, or even a grim fate for the poor bastard. A gaping hole surged through his abdomen, with blood now circling the gash.

“Holy fuck,” I breathed out. I rushed to turn away from his injury, with my gag reflex threatening me with my inspections continuing.

He was losing a lot of blood, and at this rate his injury would become infectious if nothing is done quickly. Or he could die right in front of me, and I couldn’t let my carelessness with a gun jeopardize someones life. 

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I let my backpack fall off my shoulders and onto the ground behind me, giving off minimal sound.

A few strands of short hair fell from behind my ears, eventually sticking to my face that happened to be drenched in sweat.

I unzipped my bag, and with no hesitation, I dove my hands in to reach for what I hoped would be exactly what I was looking for.

I felt around the entirety of the pack’s interior, with that sliver of hope deteriorating each time I touched an item. After a few moments of searching through, I could hear the man stumble slightly behind me.

As if on cue, I felt a roll of soft fabric brush the surface of my fingers, and I released a sigh of pure relief. I pull the roll of firm gauze from its original place in my bag, and turn to face the now whimpering man.

I could see tears threatening to form in his eyes as I looked at him, and my lips flatlined; he was in so much pain but he still attempted to hide it. 

His skin was getting to be dangerously pale, with his warm complexion draining with his blood.

I stand from the ground, carefully placing my free hand onto his broad shoulder. He jumped suddenly as I did so, but visibly relaxed as much as he could after a few moments.

“I need you to try and sit on this.” I bob my head towards the direction of a larger rock protruding from the ground beneath. It was covered in mud along with various patches of carpet-like moss, but it would have to do.

He hesitates, pushing me away from him slightly, “I’m gonna be fine I don’t need you to-”

“Not to be rude but shut the fuck up and sit, please” I gave him a pleading stare, hoping he would stop being so damn stubborn.

After taking the deepest of inhales to secure his oxygen, he maneuvers himself to sit on the rock. He remained stiff, still choking on his own projectile yelps of anguish, but he managed to get himself down onto the rock. 

“I’m gonna wrap this around you, alright?” I lean back down onto the ground, closer to his wounded midriff, with the medical wrapping clenched within both of my palms.

The man exchanged a look between my hands that held the gauze, and the expression draped across my face. He looked even more unsure of me now than when he glanced at me the first time after me shooting him, but in all honesty I wasn’t going to judge.

I continued to let him contemplate whether to bail or remain in my care for now, as frustrating as it was getting. I wasn’t usually the type of person to let my impatience tower over my empathy unless necessary, even though I had snapped at him once already.

It wasn’t until I heard the gruesome sounds of the undead not too far from us, that I didn’t wait for a single ounce of approval. No matter what, I wasn’t going to let him die in my sights if I have this chance to save him in front of me.

As I begin to hastily wrap the bandage around his injury, he unintentionally cries out in pain, unknowingly triggering the numbers of infected surrounding the forest.

Their moans of displeasure and sickening thirst for the suffering such as us grew closer, and I began to panic for the crippled human before me.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it-,” his confusion snapped into worry as soon as a whale of a runner erupts towards the east, “Oh crap.”

“They must've heard the commotion,” I muttered under my breath.

Once I finally wrap the injury to my satisfaction, I bring the roll to my mouth and tear the wrapping away from the roll itself as quickly as I could. While holding the gauze protection in place, I turn around to face my backpack once more.

With another minute passing by, the intense roars of clickers catches my attention now. My rapid breathing began to shake my body, and wrestle with my stomach. I needed to move much faster.

I drop the gauze from my hands in, and replace it with a roll of duct tape. With my mouth, I rip off a large strand of the structured adhesive, placing it over the bandage to hold it in place.

I unravel his now crinkled shirt, covering the work I had just done with one swift motion.

“We have to go. NOW.” I gesture for him to get up with urgency, in which he does so with minimal grace; stumbling slightly with a pained expression drenched on his entire being.

I grab my backpack, and throw it over my shoulders before allowing his arm to swing over my shoulders for support.

I did my best to solely sustain my focus on him as he got situated, annihilating the thoughts of dying in the hands of the infected.

“Get ready to haul ass, come on!”

He grunted in response as I began to trudge through the woodland forest with him fitted at my side.

This ominous feeling of anxiousness while pleading to save another created a sense of deja vu. I’ve been in this situation before, but with someone I once knew. Joel.

History was beginning to replicate, leaving my mind clouded with the thought of each event running its course fully with new people.

I let out an exasperated sigh, annoyed with my unfortunate timing for such conceptions. I needed to focus, not reminisce.

Another groan from behind me resulted in a complete snap back into reality.

While carrying the man’s force, heaves of air continued enter and escape his lips as he began to stumble on his feet slightly. The feeling of his weight was growing heavier, as he became much weaker.

“Shit, stay with me. We got this.” my attempts at reassurance did not prevail however, with his hyperventilation slowly progressing into drawn out sighs.

My grip onto his shoulder tightened, producing a sharpened soreness within my arm. My hold on him was overwhelming my strength, testing my limits as I pulled for him to move more quickly.

Wavering uncertainty of whether or not either of us were going to make it to my base camp alive, sat in the lap of my head. 

There wasn’t anything I could do about it until this heart-racing moment in time subsided; which seemed to not be ending soon enough.

No matter how much effort I put in, getting him to travel at a faster pace was absolutely no use.

He continued to fall in and out of his rush. I knew the swarm was inches from us at this point.

My blood ran cold as I felt a tug on my flesh. I swatted my arm away from the offender, succeeding as I place my arm at my side again. The pain electrified my system.

I felt the frigid sense of my own blood as it drew lines of red down my arm.

I didn’t bother to show any signs of torment, however; my face remained expressionless to keep the man attached to me from dismay.

While looking into the distance, I could see base camp in all its glory; a small, wooden dwelling that looked to be abandoned for years upon years.

To the naked eye, it wasn’t visible. A barricade held its own, as it was tall enough to keep unwanted guests away from the premises. It did its job well.

I look over to the man that unintentionally put his life in my hands. His eyelids were practically shut at this point.

He looked lifeless as he tripped over his own feet, trying to pry himself awake every few seconds.

The words ‘he's gonna die’ circled my brain, shoving me into a further state of panic. 

I shook my head to pin those inquiries to the back of my mind, however, knowing that we just needed to keep pushing. 

“Not much further now.” I mumble.

My heart was racing. My energy was running out, and so was his. But I couldn’t let either of us collapse. My urge for constant heroics weren’t going to fail me now.

An image of Ellie came into my mind.

Her youthful being appeared in the form of a mental photograph.

It felt idiotic, and possibly regrettable, but I needed to save this man, knowing the promise I made to her, and myself.

Find answers. Save who I can.

We were only a few feet from the gates now. We had gained some form of speed to rush ahead of the army of the infected, but I have no idea how.

Pure luck was gonna be my answer to that.

I rearranged our position so that he was now leaning against the barricade walls, as I rushed to open the gates.

“Okay come on big guy.”

He moaned back, reassuring me that he wasn’t quite dead yet. He returned to his place with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, as my other arm was around his.

It wasn’t long before I closed the gates, leaving the both of us alone within the partitions of my own property.  

All while the diseased few left in defeat, scouring within the depths of the forest to ignite another hunt for prey.

[multisuperfandom]

Omega

Part 2 of The True Omega series

Summary: You’ve known him almost your entire life. You were close enough to call acquaintances, but not nearly close enough to be called friends. Then again, you weren’t close enough with anyone to call them friends. You were an omega. The absolute definition of an omega. Being born out of an affair, your mother, one of the greatest alphas ever seen, Talia Hale, rejected you. Your father, her former emissary, and almost all of your half siblings hated you for it. You ran away from Beacon Hills when you were 13, after the abuse you had gotten from your father became too much. But the news of an alpha in your home town has lured you back. An alpha comes with a pack, and now the boy you were never close enough with, is a freshly bitten beta. Now you are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Between helping the boy you always wanted to be friends with, and finally having a pack. What will you do?

Pairing: Scott McCall x Reader Warnings: angst, language, depressed reader, loneliness, mentions of attempted sexual assault 

Character: Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Derek Hale, Alan Deaton

Word count: 2k

Tags: @nostalthicc

A/N: I don’t follow the stories exact story line.

~~~~~~~

“Scott, breathe,” you whisper while holding his shoulder. You two were trying to teach Scott control while on the lacrosse field. The game was tonight and he wasn’t at all ready for it. But he started losing control and you were pretty sure he was going to murder you.“Scott, you need to breathe. Calm down.”

“I don’t know how!” He yells, backing up and breaking your hold on him. His eyes are a bright yellow and the fur on his cheeks are starting to come in.

“Listen to my voice.”

“Ok.” He is breathing heavily.

“Everything is ok. You are gonna be able to completely control yourself one day. Even on a full moon. I just know it.”

“How?”

“We all go through this.” You start walking closer to him. Thankfully he isn’t backing up this time. “We all have to learn and be taught.”

Still breathing heavily, he nods.

“You know, Derek was terrible at control when he was young.”

“He was?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, remembering the times when he would get caught running around town in nothing but tennis shoes on the full moon. “Absolutely terrible at it.”

“Who ways the best?”

“Probably, Laura, Derek’s older sister.”

“The one we found in the woods?” You paused. Somehow in the chaoticness of everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, you forgot that Laura was dead. She’s dead. Of course, for the past two years, you were so mad at her for rejecting you. But she was your sister. She was your blood.

Now she’s dead.

“Yeah, her.” You took a step back like you were trying to step away from any talk of Laura. Before you can back up more, Scott stops you.

“Please, talk some more,” He begs with his hand on your arm.

Nodding you whisper, “You need to keep your heart rate down to stop the shift.”

“How do I do that?”

“You find what we call an anchor or a nice thought that will make you feel safe and calm.” You whisper, getting close to him again. Touching his cheek, you remember all the times you wanted to be held while you were going through a shift. “Or at least make you feel strong enough to control yourself.”

“A thought?!” He yells as he felt himself lose control again. You scramble back, hoping to not ruin one of your only good shirts.

“A thought, a memory, a person. Anything!” You yell back, trying to get to him before he finally loses control.

“What’s yours?”

“My dad,” you whisper softly. “And my mom, and Laura, and an alpha who told me I was too weak for his pack.”

“Why?” He looks at you with his golden eyes and you remember a time when you had golden eyes. A time when you were young and innocent and the weight of your world hadn’t settled itself on your chest. Now your eyes are blue and your soul tainted. The innocence is gone and the weight so heavy some days, you forget how to breathe.

“Everyone who has ever told me I wasn’t good enough for them, everyone who made me feel worthless.”

He screams, gripping his head. “You need to think. What is your anchor?”

It takes a few moments but eventually his breathing becomes lighter and his eyes were a chocolate brown again. You sighed and gave a little laugh making him give you a funny look.

“What?” He asks.

“I thought you were gonna kill me for a second,” you laugh stepping closer to him. You were about to hug him when you saw something from the corner of your eye. Turning, you see a very confused Allison Argent standing by the bleachers. Looking back at Scott, you can see a look of regret on his face. His anchor is Allison. That’s why he calmed down when she came out. Of course it was Allison. She’s pretty and smart and popular. You were nothing compared to her. You were small and quiet and alone. All she’s known is friends and family, and all you’ve know is being pushed away and forgotten. Who can blame him for wanting her and not you?

“I-I was supposed to study with her,” he whispers, scratching his neck. You nod before taking a step back. You give him a small smile to tell him it’s ok. He returns the smile and runs over to her.

Sighing, you watch them leave.

You’re alone again.

~~~~~~~

“What are you doing out here?” A familiar voice asks you as you were studying calculus in the hallway. Tilting your head, you see a very concerned Stiles standing over you.

“I had a free period and nothing better to do, so I’m studying,” You chuckle before continuing to read your textbook and notes. Ignoring the sounds of shuffling, you assume that Stiles left. You were wrong. He sat down next to you and started reading your notes with you.

“I thought you and Scott were on the lacrosse field.”

“He found something better to do.” Stiles nods, letting the silence fill the space again, which was probably the hardest thing for him to do. Unfortunately for you, it only lasts a few moments.

“What’s more important than learning to not kill people on the full moon?” He ponders.

“Allison Argent.”

“oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, stiles.” You say shortly, hoping that you can get back to your silence. But your hopes were gone when you hear the sound of giggles and footsteps from down the hall.

Lydia Martin and her boyfriend, Jackson, come running down the hall. They stop in front of the couch’s office before Lydia pushes Jackson inside. Stiles visibly flinches when the sound of the door slamming shut echoes.

“You still hopelessly and helplessly in love with Lydia Martin?” You ask partly as a joke and partly because you want to know. Stiles gives a little laugh before turning to look at you.

“You still hopelessly and helplessly in love with Scott McCall?”  In return you laugh too.

“I guess we are just both a couple of hopeless and helpless idiots,” you whisper with your eyes on the couch’s door. Were Scott and Allison doing the same, somewhere else in the school? “Who needs love when all it does is hurt you?”

Stiles sighs, grabbing your hand and holding it in his, he let you have your quiet again.

But this is Stiles we are talking about, and how long can he go without saying anything?

“Are you coming to the game tonight?”

“I-I don’t know stiles.”

“Please, please, for me? At least, come for me.” You nod, smiling at the spastic boy beside you.

~~~~~~

Scott and Stiles’ team were down by five with two minutes left. You can hear the faint heartbeats of the players, smell the sweat dripping off of them and adrenaline pumping in their veins. You hated lacrosse games. Too much is happening and you don’t know what to do.

“Scott is right there.” You hear someone whispering from across the bleachers. Allison Argent. And she’s brought her entire family with her. Her entire family, who have all tried to kill at least a dozen times. Your heart starts beating frantically. You need to get out of here. If they see you, they will try to kill you again. And you're weaker now than you were the last time you had a run-in with them. Your senses are not nearly as strong as they are supposed to be. You won’t survive if they come after you.

Just as you are about to get up, you make eye contact with Scott. He tilts his head in the way that a puppy does when they are confused. You are certain he can hear your heart beating and can smell your fear. You quickly make the realization that Stiles asked you to come for Scott, he needs you here.

“It’s ok, I’m ok, just keep playing,” you whisper into your hand so that the Argent can’t see that you are talking but Scott can hear you. He mutters back a quick response before darting off down the field. Watching him play, you make a wish that you hope and pray will come true. You wish that when you find the alpha that he will let you into his pack with Scott.

“Maison,” you hear someone else whisper. “I think Scott is losing control.”

Stiles.

Your eyes search for Scott. He should’ve scored two balls but everyone was avoiding him even though he was wide open. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hands gripping his stick like it was going to take away all his anger. Stiles was right, he’s losing control.

“Scott,” You mutter into your hands again. “You need to find your anchor. Let it ground you and remind you that you are strong enough to maintain control.”

He doesn’t respond for a while, probably trying to control his breathing. Trying and failing.

“Keep talking,” he grunts.

“Scott, you’re not a monster. You’re a werewolf.” You lay your head into your hands. “Not all monsters do monstrous things. But if you lose control, then you will become a monster. You will kill someone.”

“What do your eyes mean?” He asks and from the way that he says it, you can tell that he’s wanted to ask it for a while. “Derek has the same eyes. Is it because you are a different type of werewolf?”

“I am a different type of werewolf,” you sigh. “Derek and I were born as werewolves. But our eyes don’t represent that. Our eyes mean that we did do monstrous things.”

“What did you do?”

“Scott, please.” You don’t want to tell him. He won’t look at you the same anymore.

“Please, your talking is helping.”

“I-I,” you stutter, “My dad used-used to beat the shit out of me. He would hit me, kick me, break my legs or arms, burn me. One day after he beat me so bad I couldn’t move, he brought over some friends. There were nine of them, ten including my dad. They-they tried to-to...”

You couldn’t finish. Most nights you remember what happened in your dreams. Most nights you wake up screaming and crying. It haunts you to this day.

“I was thirteen-years-old, Scott. I was so scared. I just lost control. I blacked out and when I woke up, they were all dead. I had ripped them apart. Every single one of them, including my dad.”

Scott was completely silent.

“I ran away after that. I went to New York to follow Derek and Laura.” You hope silently that he doesn’t hate you now. “But-but Laura rejected me from her pack. I’ve been alone almost my entire life. There were about six months when I lived with my mom but she died in the hale fire, so I had to go back to my dad.”

He doesn’t respond for a while.

“Maison, I don’t think that he’s calming down!” Stiles calls out to you as the timer goes off.

“Get him into the locker room,” You say when you run onto the field to help. Everyone else disbanded so it was safe. “Come one, let’s go.”

~~~~

“Scott, calm down!” You yell while You and Stiles hold Scott under the spray of the shower. Scott roars and starts thrashing around. “Find your anchor!”

“I’m gonna rip them apart,” He yells.

“No, Scott! They are innocent! They didn’t do anything wrong!” You yell back, struggling to hold him.

“Yes, they did! I’m going to kill all of them!”He struggles against your’s and Stiles’ hold.

“Stiles, on three let him go, ok?”

“ok.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Meet Me by the River

Aang had waited a thousand years to find his family, but they each found him instead.

Ch#1: Tired of being watched, Katara sets a trap and catches a living myth.

**************************************

A/N: Because the world needs atla mythical/fantasy + family soulmate AUs, and I need to warmup my story-driven writing.

************************************** Rating: G (S for shiny)

Words: 3,854

ArchiveOfOurOwn **************************************

The wind chapped Katara’s face and filled her lungs with the sharp smells of all things free and cold—fresh pine from ancient trees that cradled but never bowed to heaps of snow and crisp gusts that licked the mountain peaks and blew in the face of danger. It brushed against the grass and played across the valley in gentle howls of laughter that drew a smile to her lips despite the frustration simmering just under her skin.

Katara slowly exhaled. The river—her river—swelled and threatened to overflow with fresh melt from the mountains. It babbled to her like an old friend trading her its secrets, and it flowed to her will just as readily and naturally as her blood flowed through her body.

Easy now, she chided herself when her water-whip snapped harder than she intended. Just a little bit longer. Can’t let them know that you know they’re here—

A twig snapped. Katara’s back tingled. She growled out of her reverie and nearly lost her focus.

Those thrice-damned eyes were on her again. They were as curious and probing as ever, and when the trees moved when the wind didn’t, Katara knew she wasn’t alone.

Her insides laughed for her, and she struggled not to preen. Her stalker was nearby. Very nearby.

Oh, how she had waited for this. 

It’s about time you showed up.

Hiding her smile in a smirk, Katara stilled her katas like she did every day—like how her stalker would recognize. She kept an air of unknowing as she released her stream of bending water. It splashed into the river, and Katara, without missing a beat, jumped in after it. The water was freezing, but she had gone ice-plunging with the boys of her tribe and won enough times to not be bothered by it.

Katara sank to the pebbled river-bottom. She pressed herself into the corner of the river’s wall and braced herself against the current that would have washed her away if she were a weaker woman. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, but the white froth atop the churning water gave her ample cover. 

She waterbended a sphere for air around herself, and then she waited.

It was a long while, but a shadow eventually appeared above her. 

Katara grinned. There you are.

The shadow grew lighter and darker as the figure—the person who had stalked her to her river in her secret cove to watch her waterbend for weeks—repeatedly crouched and stood where Katara had just been. 

They were looking for her. 

Good. Katara clenched her fists and tried to stem the heat in her blood as the creep paced up and down the shoreline. Just a little closer…

The shadow stilled and grew the darkest it had gotten yet. The figure was crouching so close to the water that Katara could’ve made out a facial feature or two if she cared. 

That’s when she struck. Katara plunged upwards with a burst of waterbending that would have sent her airborne if the stranger’s weight wasn’t there to stop her.

Her target’s surprised yelp rang loud in her ears as she grabbed them. The two of them rolled in the grass for several yards in a wet tangle of limbs. They grappled all the way. Katara struggled to brace herself without loosening her grip. She had miscalculated the size of her stalker. She was expecting a man, but she was rolling with someone barely as big as her and nearly as light as the air itself. 

The stranger maneuvered like they were used to escaping these kinds of close-quarter encounters. It was all Katara could do to keep them from darting away; they slipped around like water between her fingers.

But Katara had grown up with a big brother, and she almost laughed when she felt with what ease she pinned the stranger down. 

Sokka would have been proud.

“Finally.” Katara laughed as the haze of a catch-well-caught clouded over her. Loose strands of hair stuck to her face in wet clumps, and her clothes were so full of water that they weighed her down. The chill rippling gooseflesh across her skin and numbing the tips of her fingers brought her senses to alert and the world around her into stark relief. Katara would have shivered if victory wasn’t flushing her full of adrenaline. “Can’t run from me, now, creep. I don’t know who you think you are, but if you think you can just—”

Katara swallowed her next words. 

Her captive wasn’t a man. He barely looked like he could even think of being a creep.

His stare had felt like a sabretooth-mooselion’s, but he was just a boy. He was maybe a half-head shorter and a year younger than herself. 

He struggled for only a second; he froze the instant he realized that his escape wasn’t an immediate option. His eyes widened, his breathing turned shallow, and his heart went from fast to supersonic so suddenly that its frantic thudding echoed into Katara’s palms from where she held him down.

Katara stared. Eyes as grey as a wolf’s coat stared back at her. 

The boy shrunk under her attention like a meadowmole beneath an eaglehawk. He shivered but not from the cold—he wasn’t even wearing a shirt—, and he whimpered a small sound that struck a crack into her heart. His trembling showed no sign of stopping and shook up her arms from where she pressed his shoulders to the dirt, and he pressed himself even further down, desperate to put distance between them and trying to become one with the ground.

The wind picked up like it was about to storm even though the sky was clear. 

That was when Katara finally noticed the splay of brightly colored feathers on the grass about the boy’s shoulders and head.

Wings...

Those were wings.

Those wings were the boy’s.

The boy’s wings.

The boy had wings.

Katara didn’t mean to shout and didn’t realize she had until her voice echoed back to her. “You have wings!”

The boy cringed from her volume and curled ever further into himself. Katara was sitting on his middle with her hands tacking his shoulders to the ground, so his hands were just free enough to curl up to his chest in fists. He would have curled his legs up, too, if she didn’t have them hooked with her own. His head sank to his shoulders like a turtle retreating into a shell that wasn’t there. He swallowed so thickly that she could see his throat bob. 

Then she saw his lip tremble.

Katara let up her grip a bit. The winged-boy took the opportunity of extra movement to curl-up some more and to adjust the wing that was starting to bend at an odd angle.

He spoke, and Katara nearly fell back. His voice oozed into her ears like a song around an open fire. 

“...S-Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry...Sorry...”

He shrunk ever further. Katara’s jaw dropped ever wider.

“Oh...Oh, no, it’s—it’s okay. You’re not—I mean, I didn’t know you were, y’know, and I was just bending and I thought you—but you aren’t—but that doesn’t make sense either because the Fire Nation and there’s not any...any...” 

Katara shifted her weight and bit her lip. She froze when even that small movement made his eyes gloss over with tears. His hands trembled and tightened their fists, and the pure, unfiltered terror he leaked into the air had a dozen pairs of hands squeezing her heart and lungs into dust.

Instinct kicked in, and Katara’s voice became as soft as his hiccup made her insides. “Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh...,” she cooed. “Easy, easy. Shhh...It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” She slowly—very slowly as not to startle him—released his shoulders and leaned back. “Shhhhh, shhh, shhh…It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhh...I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy—the skybender—beneath her tucked into himself as soon as the opportunity was presented. He eyed her warily, though he seemed to have been tamed by something she said or did. Katara smiled in what she hoped he would see as a non-threatening gesture, and she held her hands out, palms up. 

“See? I’m not going to hurt you.” She slowly uncrossed her legs from his and prayed he wouldn’t bolt. He didn’t move, though he looked at her like she was trying to convince him that the sky wasn’t blue. “I’m going to get up now, okay? Is that okay? If I move?”

He blinked several times, even more confused and processing her words like they were a new flavor of some food he had never tasted. 

“Up?” 

A chill danced up Katara’s neck and warmed the pit of her belly. His voice was like a song—like the air was happy to carry his words and garnished them especially for him. The element’s love for its master—its last master—bled into every part of her.

Katara swallowed, and though there was quiet for an awkward moment, it wasn’t silent. 

“Y—Y-Yeah. I mean, yes. Up. Yes, up. Is up okay?”

He nodded very, very slowly; Katara got off him even slower. She sat at his side and kept her hands in front of her with her palms up. He sat up after a long second, and Katara bent down a bit, putting her eye-level just below his, to make herself less threatening. A mountain rolled off her shoulders when he relaxed a fraction of a fraction. 

That’s when she finally got a good look at him. The skybender wore no shirt or shoes, but he didn’t look worse for wear without them. He wore dark pants that looked more like abused burlap than cloth but reminded her of how Gran-Gran described the skybenders’ flowing robes in the stories. On his right forearm was a wrapping of bandages from his palm to a few inches before his elbow. He clutched it to his chest—which was also wrapped in something like bandages around his upper torso—, but he protected it like it was something precious rather than something wounded.

His arrowed tattoos wound around his limbs and head and were a striking shade of blue that Katara had never seen before. She almost got a sense of deja vu from looking at them. Their color was not of this world or reality.

His wings—Spirits, he had wings—, though splayed rather large when he was down, were nearly flat against his back now. They, too, were a color her mind struggled to process and place. If she looked away and looked back, her mind had already tossed aside the anomaly as a hallucination before being affronted by its beauty again. The feathers were plush and soft on her eyes, and she could only imagine how soft they were to the touch. Orange ombre dark at his shoulder and lighter towards tips that she could no longer see took her breath away.

And then there were his eyes again. They were steely grey like blades clashing, and they glanced about her just as sharply, though they were warm and inviting like his every look was a shy hug.

“Um...hello.” Katara waved her fingers. The skybender flinched but didn’t move away. She shifted for an awkward second before tapping her chest and speaking slowly. “My name is Katara.”

The skybender cocked his head like a hound to a high pitch. He gave her a curious glance-over but otherwise didn’t react.

Katara’s smile faded. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying. Do you.”

It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t get an answer. Although, at the change of her tone to something teetering on sad, he did perk up a bit. He looked around, searching for what was making her upset, but he looked not like he was hoping to brace himself from the danger but rather like he was preparing to fend it off. 

If she didn’t know any better, Katara would have thought he was being protective. She smiled a bit at the thought, and she smiled even wider when the ghosted shadow of a smile tugged the corners of his lips, too. 

Katara shifted so she sat on her knees. They sat in silence. The wind was lazy but blowing in every direction at once, and Katara couldn’t shield herself from its gentle breezes no matter how she turned. 

The boy kept rubbing the bandages on his forearm and palm and looking her up and down like this would be the only time he would ever see her. He shifted just as much as her, and Katara tried her best not to gawk too openly at his wings when they fluttered and shifted with him.

After another shiver, Katara had enough of the cold. She bent the water out of her clothes and hair and fed it back into the river with a move so second-nature that she hardly thought about it.

The skybender gasped so loudly that it startled her. His smile could melt the glacier Katara grew up on, and his giddy laugh punched the wind out of her while also making her feel whole—like he had just charged into her with a hug after searching his whole life to find her.

His eyes met hers again, and his shyness settled back over his features and curled him into himself. His eyes were pleading and glancing at her hands like he couldn’t control where he looked.

“Tideteller?” the boy said in a tone like a question.

“Tideteller? Oh, well, technically, yeah, but no one’s called waterbending that in centuries—” He looked at her a little lost, and Katara cleared her throat. Small words. “I mean, yes. Yes, tideteller.” 

The boy nodded like he was telling someone she couldn’t see that he was right, but his eyes still found their way to her hands. 

Katara prayed to every spirit she could think of. She had no idea what the hell to do. There was a living, breathing skybender right in front of her, and she didn’t want to—

“Aang.”

Katara shook herself. “What?”

The skybender tapped his chest again. “Aang. Skybender Aang.” He hesitated and glanced at her hands again before extending his own bandaged one, palm up. He looked suddenly nervous. “Tideteller?”

Aang. Katara rolled his name over her mind and tucked it into her memory so that she may remember it even if this was all a dream. She tapped her chest. “Katara. Tideteller Katara.” She extended her hand as he had, and she didn’t expect or understand why the small gesture made Aang as giddy as it did. She didn’t question it, though. 

“Katara…” Aang looked away in thought. He subconsciously folded into a crossed-legged position, but his shoulders sagged in a relaxed way that let Katara breathe again. He still kept his bandaged arm close and protected against his center. He held his chin in his hand. “Katara…” He perked up like a child with a new toy, and, based on his expression, Katara couldn’t believe that he hadn’t known her his whole life. “Katara!”

Katara laughed, and Aang looked at her like he was witnessing a miracle. “It’s nice to meet you too, Aang.”

Aang blushed as she said his name, and Katara would be damned if it wasn’t the cutest thing she had ever seen.

“Can you…,” Katara began, choosing her words carefully, “Can Aang understand Katara?”

Aang paused and thought before shrugging a so-so motion. “Eh. Small spoke.” He pinched his thumb and first finger together. “Much small spoke.”

His voice had something like an accent that wasn’t quite an accent, and Katara never wanted to hear more of something in her entire life. 

She gesticulated to make up for words that she didn’t know if he knew or not. “Was Aang watching Katara?” 

Aang blushed again. He looked away, suddenly finding the grass very interesting. He fiddled a loose fold on his abused pants and made a gentle hush sound as he adjusted his weight and his wings. “...Maybe.”

Katara cocked her head to make it known that she was asking a question. “Why?”

Aang blushed even harder, and Katara, as a healer, habitually worried for his health. “...nhy,” he mumbled.

Katara leaned closer. Aang’s head sank between his shoulders, and he fiddled faster with the fold in his pants as he met her eyes. 

Katara struggled to simplify her words. “Can you—Can Aang spoke again?”

Aang swallowed. “K’tara...shiny…” He tapped his throat and pointed to the water. “...lots of with water, too.”

It was Katara’s turn to blush, and she struggled so very hard not to laugh. The winged skybender—a living relic of a people honored and revered as almost demigods in the thousand years since their slaughter—had stalked her for near months because he liked her mother’s shiny necklace and the shiny ripples of the water she bended.

“Well,” she paused to clear her throat and swallow her laugh. Thankfully, Aang didn’t notice, “Well, there’s no need for Aang to hide. Katara doesn’t bite. Does Aang want to sit here and watch Katara?”

It took Aang a minute to process so many words, but the moment he understood, his smile nearly blinded her. His wings fluttered so quickly that he nearly left the ground. “Yes! Much yes! Much!” 

Katara struggled to hold back her laugh again, but she couldn’t stop a grin. Aang smiled wider, and his eyes got even wider as she rolled her wrist and called the water out of the river to flow between herself and her new friend. She molded it into a small globe and angled it just right so that it projected the suns’ rays in a thousand fractals of light. Even the smooth stone of her mother’s polished betrothal necklace gleamed in the reflection.

Aang pawed the ground with his unbandaged arm and stared in absolute awe. His wings unfurled into a feathered display of warm colors—reminding her of sunsets over calm ocean waters—before curling flush against his back again. Katara had to remind herself to keep her focus when they did. His wingspan was massive, but it made sense that it would be if his wings truly were able to hold him aloft. 

Katara bent the water into a pyramid that yielded a rainbow. Aang was beside himself with joy. 

Katara relaxed and tried not to preen too much when Aang scooted closer to her. She couldn’t help but feel a little proud of being able to earn his trust so easily. Although, it was probably more to the credit of Aang wanting her trust long before they officially met.

She twirled the water around his head in an overhead flare. His laugh danced about her as her thoughts were already making plans to meet him by the river tomorrow. 

Aang leaned to keep the water as close to his face as possible, and he didn’t realize he was leaning too much until he fell forward. He plunged face-first through the water and severed Katara’s connection to it. He had scooted so close to her at that point that both himself and Katara’s lap got soaked, but Katara caught the two of them before they fell flat on the grass. 

Aang sheepishly looked up at her. His wings drooped like the ears of a polarbeardog, and his eyes were just as effective.

“Sorry, K’tara…”

Katara didn’t try to hide it anymore. She laughed long and loud, full and hearty, and she welcomed how much it hurt. She struggled not to buckle over, especially with Aang in her arms, but she couldn’t stop the stream of giggles that rippled into her attempts to breathe.

...She didn’t see the way Aang lost his breath and melted to ooze in her arms. Her shining smile lit up his world like nothing had ever done before, no matter how far or how long he searched, and it warmed him from head to toe like he knew nothing else ever could. And when her peels of laughter grew tired and heavy with joy that pooled into her eyes—her eyes that were looking at and drawing joy from him—he felt like he was flying the closest to the sun that he had ever gotten, and he wanted nothing more than to fly as close to her as he could. 

His palm throbbed, and he struggled not to itch it through its wrappings. The beautiful tideteller—Katara—had dusted out one of the holes in his soul that had festered for a thousand years, Aang would have cried and begged her to fill it if he wasn’t smiling so much, too.

Though, he couldn’t stop his eyes from glossing over with hot tears when she waved her hand—that hand—and telled the water off of them. He could see it even clearer at this distance. It glowed on her palm even though it wasn’t visible on her skin yet. 

She stood and extended it to him. He stared up at her for the longest time, unable to move. 

Then she reached for his hand and took it herself, and she brought him to his feet. Her palm felt oddly warm in his, and he shivered when he felt the connection there. Katara didn’t seem to notice what the feeling was from when she felt it herself. She just smiled some more.

And then, with her hand holding his, Katara pulled him into a hug. 

Her arms wrapped around him. Aang shifted and tried not to jump into her touch when she brushed his wings. Her hug was shy but welcoming, an unspoken question of sorts. An open door. An invitation. 

She pulled away sooner than he would have liked. Her words reached him like she was speaking to him through water. “Sorry...e e m...lke...Aang...n e eded one.”

His vision grew as blurry as if he truly was underwater. And when next her arms wrapped around him—a complete stranger to her even though she was so much a part of him—Aang held her back just as tightly and let his tears fall.

She held his hand, almost subconsciously, for the rest of their time together, just talking and learning off of each other. She didn’t even notice when he shyly held her tighter. She just scooted closer.

Aang itched his wrapped palm out of habit rather than need and didn’t let himself cry until Katara left an hour later as the sun was setting. He didn’t understand what she said in parting, but her voice was hopeful and her last hug felt like a promise.

Aang sat at the riverside with the wind curling around him like an excited old friend ready to carry his secrets. 

He cried some more when his palm no longer itched, and he held it to his heart like he might brand himself the feeling of finally being found after being lost for a thousand years. 

**************************************

Goodness gracious my story-driven writing is so crusty and rusty it isn’t even funny. 

I hope you enjoyed it, though!

(I want to call Aang a harpy, but I grew up with a lot of yugioh and can’t think of the word without thinking of the show:c So I tried to make something up for this AU instead. Thank you @demigodavenger for helping me, though! I very much appreciate it!)

[robinskey]

The Duel (Harry Potter x Reader)

Prompt: Could u do something Harry Potter x reader were the marauders are alive and the reader is Harry’s gf and is as good as Dumbledore in dueling. And she was staying at Harry’s house for spring break and (Harry is still the boi who lived) Voldemort attacks them and says something like “if she wins she safe but for now I am going to take the most important thing in ur life” to Harry and he starts crying but then she out duels him and comforts Harry and Jily notices how much they love each other?

A/N: Thanks for requesting, anon! I appreciate the level of detail and thought you put into this prompt. I tried to follow it as closely as I could. Enjoy!

Warnings: None-story under the cut

Spending spring break with your boyfriend sounded like an absolute dream.

Until it turned into a nightmare.

You and Harry were wandering along a cobblestone path one evening, hand-in-hand. Your stomachs were full of pasta from the Italian restaurant you’d just visited. Harry’s parents had offered to pick you up from the restaurant, since they knew you’d be out past dark. It was a beautiful night, though, and you both decided you’d rather walk. Lily and James agreed; after all, Godric’s Hollow had always been an incredibly safe little town. The only exception to that rule happened nearly a decade and a half ago-the night a much younger version of your boyfriend became The Boy Who Lived.

Recalling what could have happened that night sends a shiver up your spine. Harry misinterprets this as a temperature issue and shrugs off his jacket before you can even say a word, wrapping it around your shoulders. Since you don’t have the heart to tell him the real reason for your shudder, you simply thank him.

And that’s when a sudden, eardrum-splitting screech rings out across the street. It sounds like it’s coming from the cemetery.

Of course it is. Every time something creepy happens, it’s always in the cemetery.

Harry looks over at you, panic swimming in his emerald eyes.

“Stay here. I’ll check it out,” he says, reaching toward his back pocket for his wand.

“I’m not letting you go alone,” you say. 

Harry’s lips part in protest, but then another scream rings out. 

“Fine. But stay behind me.”

Harry wields his wand with one hand and clutches yours with the other. You creep among the tombstones, twigs crunching under your footsteps. As you meander deeper into the graveyard, a thick fog forms around you. It becomes difficult to see beyond a few feet, but you can make out a tall silhouette in the distance. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” Harry calls out. 

The figure grows larger. You can hear its heavy footsteps squishing in the mud, louder with every footfall.

“Harry, something’s not right,” you mumble, tugging on his hand to pull him back. He lets go of you and charges forward.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” he demands.

There’s a flash of red light. Harry’s wand flies out of his hand, and his limp body is thrown the other way. His torso collides with a tombstone.

“Harry?” you scream. 

“Oh, he’s fine-for now, at least,” a deep voice says from beyond the veil of fog. It’s unfamiliar, and yet you feel a twinge of recognition in your chest. Or maybe it’s just panic.

Eventually, the cloaked figure draws near enough for you to make out a face. It’s a sorry excuse for a face-terribly distorted, as though it had once been shattered and then hastily pushed back together again, but all the puzzle pieces never lined back up. Red, beady eyes glare at you from under a black hood. They’re mesmerizing-so much so that you almost miss it when the figure raises his arm to cast another spell. But you’re an excellent duelist-as good as Dumbledore, some even say-so you notice what he’s doing just in the nick of time. You dive behind a tombstone as the first flash of red shatters a statue directly behind the spot where you’d just been standing.

“You-you’re supposed to be dead,” you mumble, mostly to yourself. You hear the soft squish of the earth growing louder as Voldemort trods over it and yell “impedimenta!”, firing the jinx in his general direction before ducking for cover behind a massive oak tree.

“No,” says Lord Voldemort. He gestures to Harry, slumped over the tombstone, too weak to stand. “He is supposed to be dead. And yet, he’s not. Harry Potter has grown up as the Boy Who Lived, while I’ve spent the last decade and a half trying to piece myself back together.” 

Your gaze travels over to Harry. He is kneeling now, using the headstone as support as he attempts to get to his feet. Voldemort follows your line of sight; he snickers as he watches the boy struggle. Voldemort utters a hex, flicks his wrist, and illuminates the graveyard with blue light. Paralyzed, every joint in Harry’s body locks up. You watch in horror as he stiffly falls backwards to the ground.

“The Boy Who Lived barely put up a fight, and he still managed to take everything from me. Incendio!” 

Hot flames lick at your ankles as you somersault away from your previous hiding place. After an “aguamenti” that does nothing but exacerbate the fire, you launch a “stupefy” in Voldemort’s general direction. He dodges it. Voldemort’s booming voice seems to surround you, and the cloak of night has now fully descended upon the graveyard. Confused and disoriented, you begin firing spells in every direction, praying none of them hit Harry. Suddenly, the cloaked figure appears in front of you, his wand pointed directly at your heart.

“Now,” he says, turning his head toward what must have been Harry, “I am going to take the most important thing in your life.” His focus shifts back to you. “Avada-”

“Expelliarmus!”

Green and red collide in an explosion of light. Your ears ring; your heart beats against your ribs. And then, as suddenly as it happens, it’s over. The world is still again, and Voldemort is gone.

You sprint over to Harry so quickly that you almost trip over your feet. In a matter of seconds, he’s unparalyzed and wrapped around you like a sloth. His face nuzzles into your neck, and you feel as water drips on your t-shirt. You run your fingers through his thick curls soothingly.

“It’s okay, my love. I’m here,” you hum. “He’s gone now. Everything is going to be all right.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” he mumbles into your shirt.

“Never,” you say. He’s still clinging to you as though you’ll disintegrate if he lets go, but you gently unravel yourself from his embrace. “We can’t stay here, though. It’s not safe.”

You apparate into Harry’s living room, where his parents are curled up on the sofa together, watching a movie. As soon as the two of you appear, covered in dirt and bruises, Lily and James leap to their feet. They know something’s wrong and start worrying profusely, even though you try telling them that the danger has passed. However, concerned parents are an unstoppable force, and there’s no sense in trying to reason with the Potters. They instruct the two of you to stay put while they enchant the house with charms and protection.

When the elder Potters finally return, they find you and Harry tangled in each other’s arms on the sofa. Your heads tilt together, foreheads touching, as you speak in whispers. Lily and James know they probably shouldn’t eavesdrop, but they can’t help it.

“...I was so scared,” Harry is saying. “I’ve never been that afraid in my life.”

“I know, baby. I was, too,” you say. 

“I felt like a coward. Here’s my girl, fighting off this evil entity, and meanwhile, I’m just laying on the grass, watching.”

A whisper of an ironic smile forms on your lips.

“It’s not like you had much of a choice,” you say. “And besides, it’s not like you would have been much help. We both know I’m the better duelist.” 

“Yeah?” he asks through a chuckle.

“Yeah,” you say, raising your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

He pulls back to hold you at arm’s length.

“You’re a pain in my arse sometimes, you know that?” he says, green eyes glimmering with laughter. 

At this comment, Lily glances pointedly at James. She mouths, Just like us at that age.

“I’m your favorite pain in the arse, though.” You giggle as Harry hesitantly nods.

James elbows his wife, who laughs out loud. He shushes her, but it’s too late. You and Harry notice his parents lurking in the doorway of the living room. Harry’s face burns bright red, but you give a friendly wave.

“Ready for a story, Mr. and Mrs. Potter?”

As dark as the story may be, the mood is a lot lighter with you around. After all, Harry knows everything’s going to be all right, as long as he has you.

[misty-doodles]

A Broken love: Chapter 1

Paring: Todoroki shouto X Midoriya izuku

Summary: Everyone is born with a soulmate. Your ability to feel your soulmates pain and vice-versa. You're also able to talk to your soulmate through ink on the skin. Izuku had 2 soulmates he never asked for, and was bullied because of it. It's not like he had a choice...

Warnings: Mentions of suicide and self harm.

Everyone is born with a soulmate. You are able to connect with your soulmate through ink on the skin. You're able to feel each others pain. Izuku was often bullied for having multiple soul mates. It's not like he had a choice.

“A quirkless loser like you doesn't deserve a soulmate, let alone two,” Bakugou said as he brought a crackling fist down on Midoriya chest "I can't believe that two people have to deal with a useless person like you!" Bakugou struck Midoriya dead in the face.

"Kacchan stop!!" Midoriya cried as bakugou continued to deliver painful punches to midoriya's already frail body. It seemed like forever before the blond and his goons finally stopped and left. After ten minutes Midoriya eventually got up and started walking home.

When he got home his mother was on the couch watching tv "Oh hello dear" Inko said looking over to Midoriya. While his mother tried her best, she didn't really care about her son. She was never worried about the burns or bruises on his body. Never cared enough to stop the bullies, or to tell him that he would be ok. No, she would just sit there and smile. "Dinner's almost ready, go sit at the table, "Inko said as she got up and walked to the kitchen. Midoriya and Inko sat down at the dinner table as she serves the food

“I'm not sure if you should talk to your soul mates anymore.” Midoriya stared at the woman in front of him. It was his mother, Inko Midoriya, who had just told him not to contact the only people who cared for and loved him.

“What, why?!” Midoriya shouted, rising from his seat.

“Because two is way more than needed," Inko said softly, eyes focusing on her stressed son.

"Mom they're my soulmates! I can't just ignore them!" Midoriya yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

" Now you listen here young man," Inko stood up grabbing her son by the arm " You will not talk to these soul mates from now on. Do you understand?" Midoriya tore his arm away from his mother, tears brimming his eyes.

"Whatever." He mumbled before stomping off to his room, slamming and locking the door. Midoriya stared up at the ceiling as he flopped onto his bed, angry tears flowing freely. 'What am I going to do now?' he thought. Without his soul mate, how would he ever feel happy? They were the only ones in this cruel world that loved him! More tears made their way down his face as he began to silently cry. He looked at his arm to see the words that were written by his soul mates.

'I'm in so much pain, are you guys ok?' Was written in icy blue ink. 'My chest hurts'. Was followed by purple ink. Midoriya's frown deepened as he realized he would never have fun happy life.' Green?' Midoriya wanted so badly to respond, but he knew better than to disobey his mother. Midoriya got up and grabbed some bandages from his closet. He then swiftly wraps his arms up. With a sigh, he flopped down onto his bed. Out of sight out of mind, right? Yeah, if he can't see what they're saying, then he won't have to worry anymore then he has to. Why did he have to be so unlucky, why? He just wanted to be happy and now he can't even be with the loves of his life? This was so unfair, why couldn't he have anything good in his life? No quirk and now no soul mates?

Midoriya soon fell into depression. Midoriya was constantly bullied by Bakugou, who had become angrier if that was possible. It was always painful. He had no one to help him through it. He would often go home and cry himself to sleep. He wouldn't eat for days on end, becoming even more frail and thin. It didn't help that neither his teachers nor his mothers ever cared about his well being, and the kids at school seemed to feed off his sadness.

It was agonizing. He had no way to stop the pain, that was until he discovered cutting. To him, it was the most amazing thing. He caused the hurt, he controlled it. It made him feel powerful and happier. It didn't stop the horrible thoughts or the self-hatred, but he felt lighter and fuller.

One day midoriya decided to check his arm, just to see how his soulmates were fairing. 'Hitsohi, I'm scared. I miss green, I want them to be okay, it hurts' ' I know, don't worry, we'll find them soon' He looked away as he immediately wrapped his arms. Hope. He didn't need hope. It only got him hurt in the end. He sighed, laying down and going to sleep.

One day bakugou had found out Midoriya was going to enroll in ua. To say he was angry was an understatement, he was furious. Midoriya was trying to pack his things when Bakugou grabbed his book out of his hands. "Hey, that's mine, give it back" Midoriya tried to get his hero notebook. 

"No fucking way you useless shit." Bakugou then took the book in between his hands and exploded it. 

"Noo!" Midoriya screamed in despair as his book was destroyed. Bakugou proceeded to throw the book out the window behind him, electing another strangled scream from the greenett. Bakugou grabbed Midoriya and threw him to the ground.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing thinking you could ever go to ua, useless deku" Bakugou half yelled, small explosions spewing from his hands. 

"Kacchan wait! Please!" Midoriya whined, scampering backwards until his back hit the wall. 

" You listen here you little shit, I'm going to be the first and only one to go to ua from this school, and you're not going to get in my way. Not that you could since your just a quirkless deku." Bakugou grabs him by the shirt "Now why do you do both of us a favor and not apply?" Bakugou said as he put a hand on Midoriya's shoulder, smoke coming out as he burned his shoulder. Bakugou took his hands away and made his way to the door. Midoriya stayed Facing the window

"Ya know, there's a quick way to get a quirk" Midoriya turned around to stare at him with confusion "Take a swan dive off the roof and pray you'll have a quirk in your next life" Bakugou waves as he leaves the classroom. Midoriya stares at the empty space the blond was standing.' Jump of the roof?' He thought as he slowly grabbed his bag and made his way out of the classroom. His feet led him on autopilot until he reached the roof…...

'I'm sorry' he thought as he grabbed a green pen from his bag 

Todoroki sat in the kitchen with his sister, idly watching her prepare food. It'd been a calm day, just normal school things. That was until he felt a burning on his shoulder. He hissed, rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to relieve the pain. Fuyumi stopped what she was doing and quickly got an ice pack, already knowing what to do. Shouto accepted it and gingerly placed it on his shoulder. He felt scratching on his arms, follower by 'I'm sorry if I hurt you, cat issues' in purple ink on his skin.

A different colored ink appeared on his skin, one he hadn't seen in years. It read two simple words. 'I'm sorry' Shouto didn't understand. Was he sorry for ignoring them for years? He stood to grab his pen, but immediately collapsed, pain shooting through his entire body. He screamed out in agony, writhing on the ground. He opened his eyes, and through the tears, he saw his mangled limbs, bent at odd angles.

He sobbed, vision swimming with pain as blood soaked his clothes. He heard his sister's screams and felt her touch on his skin. Frost coated his limbs as they slowly began to heal. He felt his vision blackout, then back in as he tried to calm himself. But the only thing on his mind besides the pain was his soulmate whom he hadn't heard from in years. Had he finally done it? Had he finally ended his life? That thought alone hurt more than the blood running down his face from hisplitit skull. He passed out soon, the pain becoming too much for him.

 -

When he woke again, he was in his room, a warm cloth draped over his forehead. He blinked, bleary. He looked down to his bandaged arms. They were tented a red color. He was unable to see His arms, meaning he couldn't talk to his soulmates. He sat up quickly, moving to grab a pen on his bedside. But before he could more pain radiated through his skull and he couldn't help but cry out again. Fuyumi came in quickly, gasping and pushing him to lay back down. "Shouto! You need to stay down" Shouto shook his head, making the pain worse.

"N-no!" he groaned, weakly fighting against her hold. "I need to talk to them." Fuyumi stopped, just staring at him with a somber look in her eyes, before shaking her head.

"You can't," said sadly, her grip tightening. "Please just lay down"

"W-why? I need to know their okay, if not green, At lease Hitoshi. I have to Fuyumi. p-please." tears filled his eyes. He needed to know they were okay, they were alive and breathing. His voice was weak and heavy. "The first time in years he says anything to me and now this. Fuyumi-"

"Shouto!" Fuyumi had tears running down her face as she fought to keep her voice level. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Your skull, it was cracked," She held her stare, letting him guess. His eyes searched her face, begging that she wasn't implying what he thought she was. " Shouto it's still there. I think- i... Shouto they're gone......"

Shouto was unable to speak. He couldn't make a single noise. He couldn't believe it. Why? Why did it have to end like this? His goals were because of him. He wanted he become a hero so he could save him. " H-how do you know?"

"Sho....." Fuyumi breathed, resting a hand on his face. "If you get a scar from your soulmate and it doesn't fade, it means they've died and you're stuck with the scare. Shouto i-"

"What they just flatlined, what if they were dead, and are okay. What then?" He blurted out. Hope, he had to hope. Even if he had Hitoshi still, he couldn't live with the death of his soulmate. Fuyumi paused, furrowed her brow, then sighed.

"I don't know... but from what I've heard, it'll last for a few days, then disappear." Shouto's lip quivered.

"C-can I see it? please?" Fuyumi nodded slowly moving off of him. He sat back up, Slowly, and stood. He slowly walked into the bathroom. A thick, choking, silence fell over the house as Shouto stared into the mirror.

Shouto's god-awful scream ripped through the silence. He screamed and screamed as he dropped to his knees, still looking at his reflection. A bloody bandage covered his head, blood still soaking the bandage. His trembling hands moved to remove it. He sobbed harder as his hands made contact with the warm, sticky bandages. When they finally came off and spooled around his broken frame, he was quiet. He couldn't scream, there was bile in his throat.

Shouto couldn't tear his eyes from the mirror. He weakly crawled over to the toilet as he wreaked, letting out what little food he ate. When there was no more food to puke he just dry heaved, blood trickling past his lips. Fuyumi gripped his shoulders as he shook. When he was finally done he leaned back, falling into her arms. He was losing blood again, and his vision began to swim. The last thing he heard was his sister's sad voice. 

"I'm sorry

[momo-de-avis]

Because I’m nuts I completely rewrote, from scratch, something I had out there already ever since I decided to say fuck it and in the process I came up with a completely different concept to like, shove it in between what was already there, and here is what came out of it

The border patrols pointed their rifles at the man, but he didn’t raise his hands.

He couldn’t. One of them was holding a canister, and the other fell along his body. He dragged his feet across the tarmac, and stopped to watch: there was a man, maddened in the eye, shrouded in an overwhelming sense of dismay – in his sunken shoulders, mostly – struggling against the clawing hand of a nurse that grappled his arm. The presence of the man holding a canister caught their attention, and both maddened patient and nurse turned back. When he saw her eyes, the man with the canister felt his heart stop, and something unexpected consumed him. Hope.

The woman’s eyes were glazed, glistening in despair. He thought they spoke, and they said: please set me free. She was going insane herself, tired of watching the patients from the asylum fall deeper into an inflicted madness, of holding the syringes containing a cocktail of perdition, a lethal shot to the mind. She had probably watched it all: the way they tried to hold on to sanity as they fought the monsters standing in the corner of their rooms, until eventually their lips would move by themselves and they’d say the words: I did it, I am guilty – though their hearts sang the opposite. She was going mad herself, because she was tired.

Then, the man with the canister moved his eyes and found two border patrols holding their rifles, barrels pointing at him. But they too had something mad to them. One was blue-eyed, white-skinned face sprinkled with freckles, and ginger hair shining fiery-red under the blazing August sun. The other was built like a true military – clipper cut, broad-shouldered, rosy skin and deep brown eyes. But both mad. Both tired. He could already tell: second children, all of them – second-class citizens, made to become cannon fodder, transformed into machines by the State, made to oppress, to brutalize, to kill.

But that something in their eyes. The three of them spoke: please, save us from this insanity. And the man with the canister was there to do just that.

He looked at the skies – blue, not a cloud in sight – and felt the warmth of the sun kiss his skin. He closed his eyes, and thought about his life – a life filled with regrets; a life meant to be written down by traitorous hands; a life lived as a villain when he had tried to salvage everything. I am to blame, the man with the canister thought. This is all my fault.

His eyes lowered again, to the two militaries and the nurse. The woman was crying, the two militaries lowered their guns – and everyone else was confused. It was those three that interested him. He could see it in their eyes, that psychosis bristling with the strength of a ravaging fire, ready to set them free. The metanoia. Just as he had seen before, in that abused little girl turned a woman – a tortured child made to be a fighter. Exactly like Alexa.

The man opened the canister, threw the lid away and raised it high above him. A slight sense of dread then came, but it passed quickly. He wasn’t afraid to die anymore – hadn’t been for so long – and he had accepted his fate. He had to be the one to do it, or else the State would come and give him a taste of his own medicine. If he didn’t do it first, they’d take him away, and they’d strap him to a stretcher and give him that cocktail of horrors encapsulated in a single shot – the same ones the nurse in front of him had administered.  And then he’d be the one to suffer: twisting and turning in nightmarish visions, and critters crawling under his skin, gnawing his flesh and bones, crying in the night as he begged to be released, only for the certainty of a dull brain to come. Perhaps I deserve it, he thought.

He turned the canister upside down, and when the gasoline poured, his tears fell – one mixing with the other, indistinguishable to the onlooker. A gasp was held between the nurse’s lips, but there was a wonder to her eye – they glowed blue, and tears fell down as she watched, inspired. The two border patrols exchanged a look, their faces carved into stony awe, paralyzed before a moment’s realization – yet something they couldn’t describe still. Heal, the man thought; may God allow you to heal and wake up.

He threw the canister aside – it fell in a hollow thud. Nobody moved, unsure – border patrols were automatons, ordered to shoot anyone who dared to cross the gates illegally from the newly formed Sunset City, ordered to kill any migrant who dared attempt anything beyond standing back. Border Patrols were taught to hate, taught to despise, taught to stand above, like giant boots stepping on bugs. But what do they do, the man thought, when they see a man die by his own hands?

He produced a lighter from his pocket, and raised his hand. There was something, at least, he had to say – to himself rather than others:

“Thou turnest man to destruction, and sayest: Return, ye children of men.”

He flicked the light. The nurse’s eyes beamed, her face frozen in contemplation and empathy, and the two border patrols by her side dropped their rifles on the ground, like two pious faithful struck by awe before an apparition. The flame appeared before himself and he closed his eyes when a faint, hopeful smile drew on his lips, his heart beating rapidly before the prospect of death – and everything around frozen into summer stillness. In a few minutes, nothing but the black mark of his charred body would be left, and soon his name would be forgotten too. But I won’t let them forget yours, Alexa, he thought; I am so sorry.

He dropped the lighter, and the flames rose. Heal, he thought, and may God have mercy on your souls. Perhaps it would mean nothing, or perhaps one day someone would look up to that moment and something would be set in motion. He had done his part; he had avenged Alexa, and he had given them the tools to fight, to wake up, to dream at least – dream of a united city, dream of a world where walls were broken and the authority of a crushing State would perish at the hands of its own victims. They had to dream – it was in their minds that they were truly free – dream of beauty all around, and all things they were being deprived of – dream of love, of friendship, of camaraderie.

The flames licked his body, rose into a column that engulfed him whole, a hellish rebuke from his own past, nightmares appearing around his burned flesh as the pain consumed him.

Wake up, he thought – pressing on as life fled, as the flames devoured him, as death seduced him. I pray to God you wake up.

(yes if it is familiar to something ive posted before, its because it’s that)

I got this shit going, my friends. I’m hopeful, I don’t know

[eyoricka]

without thinking

so that's my first imagine about Theseus, hope you will enjoy! :3

When you first entered in the Head Auror office for your first day, you were really stressed out. You never met your boss, but you had heard so much stories, rumors about him. he was a war hero, a gifted employee, a powerful wizard, he always stood up for justice and what was right. With a resumé like his you couldn't help but be impressed, moreover since he was rather young. But his detractors always described him as a cold man who was hard-working but tended to ask a lot to his employees. Some others said that he was very bossy and that you didn't want to deceive him.

You tried to chase away these thoughts, but it was vain. As you were walking down the corridor with a secretary in order to introduce yourself to the well-known auror, you couldn't focus on the chitchat of the joyful girl by your side. When she knocked at his door and heard a voice saying that you could enter, you felt yourself become weak. You cursed yourself, you were supposed to be brave, a courageous auror and you were scared of your boss, that wasn't necessarily a could sign for your future and you even wondered for two seconds why you had chosen this career and not a calm one. The girl by your side sent you a reassuring smile before opening the door and let you in.

All you have imagined was far from the truth who was standing in front of you. actually Theseus wasn't like people described him. Of course he had a natural confidence and charisma that was impressive but he also looked like a soft nice gentleman. He invited you to sit down and poured you a cup of tea. Then he smiled kindly at you and said that it was really nice to have a new employee that had your talents and you blushed at these words. He chuckled a bit and explained you how the department was working and everything you had to know. He even insisted on accompanying you to your new office. On the way to your office he had a much lighter conversation with you and you really felt like this man was a good man. you didn't really understood why people who disliked him saw him as aloof because he clearly wasn't and he was one of the sweetest guy you ever met.

The weeks went on and turned into months and you enjoyed everything about your job. It was thrilling and you felt like you were doing the right things, helping the society to become better. It was really satisfying to feel useful. Plus you really got along with Theseus, he was a really great guy. He was really fun when you knew him, he didn't put any pressure on his employees like some pretended, it was all the contrary in fact. He always complimented people went they were doing a great job and insisted that some of them took holidays when they were working too hard and were about to break down. In one word he was carrying. He cared a lot for the well-being of his employees, for his job, for his brother... that being said you avoided him at all cost. You didn't feel comfortable when you were by his sides and that wasn't his fault because he was a real gentleman, no that was yours. You knew that falling for your boss was a bad idea and you did your best to prevent it but you couldn't stop the feelings that grew for him. if only he was less perfect to you, if only he had a default just one to stop your feelings but you didn't find any. So you did your best to avoid the times when you would be just together, you shorten all the meetings you had with him when you gave him your mission reports, you arrived later or earlier than him at your work to be sure to not see him... but that did not stop your feelings to blossom and you always find yourself in a total panic when he was on a mission. In fact you were so worried that most of your time you couldn't focus on your work and spent your time praying Merlin to make him come back alive and in one piece.

You were working on your latest report trying to explain in a short and complete description how you catch a dark wizard that killed some muggles when you heard someone knocked and opened the door. you thought that it was Alice, another auror who soon became a great friend of yours and would always come to your office to chat a bit, so you didn't even rose your head from the paper you were reading, Alice had the habit to let you finish what you were doing before beginning to talk. But you heard someone cleared his throat and you immediately reddened when you noticed that it wasn't your friend but Theseus. He smiled softly at you when he saw your surprised expression and simply told you to finish to write your paragraph he could wait. Working with him watching your every action was practically impossible and you rapidly pretended that you had finished. He nodded and remained silent for few seconds searching his words but he eventually stated "Grindelwald is hidden in Paris and called his followers to join in. I need to go there to arrest him and you will come with me." your eyes grew incredibly wide and you managed to reply "Why me?" Theseus eyes softened at you and he explained kindly "Because you are the auror with the best results, you are the best of this department and I need you. plus you speak a rather good French or at least a better than mine, that could be useful. We leave tomorrow morning and Y/N I am sorry it's a secret mission, don't tell anyone, Grindelwald has followers everywhere and we don't want this mission to fail." You didn't know what to say so you just nodded. On one hand you were so proud to be seen by him as the best and to be a part of the mission that would potentially stop such a great danger for the world. However on the other hand you were truly freaked out, not by the dark wizard but by working with Theseus. You weren't sure that it was a good thing because you had trouble to focus and be efficient when he was around. You didn't want to fail the mission because of a stupid crush.

The events in France that led you to the Père Lachaise were so abundant and happened so quickly that you wondered how it would fit in a short report. You were in the crowd full of Grindelwald's followers with Theseus and other competent aurors. Theseus stood by your side and it reassured you a bit. The dark wizard sure knew how to manipulate people with his words. When he looked in your direction you felt like he was scanning your soul and knowing all of your thoughts. You were really uncomfortable and you sighed in relief when he looked in another direction. But after few minutes he stated that he had noticed aurors among the crowd, his voice was so cold that it sent shivers down your spine. You began to be scared for your life and grabbed in a reflex the hand next to yours to reassure yourself. But when you realized that this latter belonged to Theseus you quickly and awkwardly let it go. Your boss took it back in his and to draw circles with his thumb on the back of your hand to appease you. he leaned to your hear and whispered softly "Don't panic it will be alright I'm there okay?" and in one instant you felt brave again and ready to face the powerful wizard in front of you.

Nonetheless everything went suddenly wrong when one auror killed one of Grindelwald's follower. That was precisely what the older man was waiting for and he dismissed his followers asking them to spread the truth about that night and who was the real violent side. Everything after that happened in such a blur for you. you saw the wizard casted a spell and a blue curse left his wand. This latter killed several aurors and while Queenie was embracing the dark side you noticed that the blue light was charging Theseus. You didn't think twice actually you didn't think at all and you threw yourself in front of him. you just had time to cast a weak protecting spell when you felt yourself become dizzy and saw blood leaving you. You turned yourself to see that Theseus was safe and you smiled weakly before everything went black.

When you regained consciousness, you were laying on something really comfortable and everything around seemed so white. You felt something on your hand and tried to move slowly to look at what was touching you without feeling too much pain. A wide smile appeared in the corner of your lips when you saw Theseus sat on a chair, asleep, with his hand on yours. He was so pure, so beautiful at that moment and deep down you were happy to have protected him even if it was painful. As you moved slowly to reach the glass of water next to your bed, Theseus suddenly opened his eyes. He remained sat, clearly surprised for few seconds before crushing you in a warm hug. You hissed a bit in pain and he released you saying that he was sorry. You giggled a bit and replied that it was okay before hugging him back. The embrace was soft and warm, you never wanted to leave it. you buried your head in his torso and he stroke your hair. You didn't know how much time you spent like this. when he finally broke the embrace, he looked at you with scolding eyes and put a hand on your cheek. He decided to break the comfortable silent and softly reprimanded you "never do that again Y/N, I am the head auror, I am the one who is supposed to protect you at all costs and not the contrary. Understood?" He looked at you waiting for an answer and you nodded at him with a little apologizing smile. He seemed satisfied and continued to speak "I am really relieved that you are alive, I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I was the one that sent you on a mission that caused your death without me trying to protect you. and it would have crushed me to see you gone without you knowing that..." he was clearly struggling to find the right words, he had lost all his confidence and that was the first time you saw him like this. He breathed deeply, refrained a tear that was about to spill on his cheek and bit his trembling lip. "without you knowing how I felt for you." You tried to refrain your wide smile but gave up when you noticed his eyes lightened up with joy at your reaction. You dared to put your lips on his and he immediately kissed you back tenderly. You felt him smile in he kiss and your heart melted. You broke the kiss and he stood up. you frowned a bit and he explained with regret "if I don't go and tell the nurses that you are awake then will kill, I would rather face Grindelwald one hundred times than a angry nurse just once." You giggled and watched him leave the room trying to find a nurse. When you were sure that he was nowhere in sight you collapsed on your hospital bed with a wide grin.

[cartierswift]

—invisible (lrh)

* for sophie *

—

you didn’t understand. everything was fine. more than fine, actually. things were perfect. you met luke when you were just 16. he was 17 and travelling the world with his best friends and you were just a junior in high school. it was a cool day in amsterdam. the leaves were changing colours, and you were sitting on a park bench absolutely clueless that you were about to meet the love of your life. luke, trying to avoid the pestering paps managed to get away for a few minutes and catch his breath on the same bench. instantly, he noticed the way your brown hair caught lighter in the sun and darker under the shade of the tree, he caught notice of the way your lips turned up after every lyric ended, but mostly it was your voice. the way you sang as if you weren’t in the middle of a park, the way his chest tighten everytime you sang a word. he knew right then and there that it was you. you were the one for him.

“pretty chilly here isn’t it?” he said, looking over to see if he caught your attention. you did a double take around the area, confused as to why someone was disturbing your alone time. the moment your brown eyes caught his blue ones, you melted. you were at a lost for words. his golden blonde locks were messy with last nights slumber and his plump lips were glistening. you were a sucker for lip rings.

“i guess. you get used to it eventually” you smiled back.

“is that so? i guess i’ll need to come by more often.” his eyes never leaving yours.

“i guess so.” you didn’t know why, but you were nervous. you wanted to make a good impression on this boy. you wanted him to remember you.

“maybe i can get your number? you know. so i can have a reason to come back.” he said a bit quieter. you nodded and typed your number into his phone refusing to give in to your nerves. after you were done, you couldn’t help but give him a big smile. you were proud you were able to attract someone good looking and you knew that this was going to be something special.

“i’m luke.”

“sophie.”

—

after that, everything else just fell into place. you and luke stayed together through everything. scandals, hate, tours, and everything else in between. you graduated and moved to LA to be with him. you couldn’t imagine your life without him. everything was perfect. the days consisted of football games on the TV, painting and then repainting the bedroom walls, helping luke write music, basically doing everything together. you went on tour with him, you got along great with the boys. nothing could ruin what you guys have together. some people say that if it’s meant to be, nothing can make them leave. and you agreed there was no force in the world that could take luke from you or you from him.

however, something in 2017 changed. the once happy relationship you guys held was crumbling. luke was snapping faster than usual, you were left in bed every night with an empty space holding on to your pillow to try and fill the void he left you with. your dreams filled with all the happy moments. the beautiful colours of your relationship were fading to grey and luke simply didn’t care. after every fight, he turned his back and walked away. you wouldn’t let it go though. you gave up everything to be with luke, you sacrificed a huge writing career to live in LA, your parents didn’t understand and you had left amsterdam with nasty words in your heart for them, your friends were limited to the boys and their girlfriends and a few from back home that didn’t understand what you and luke had. you had given up so much and you were not going to let it go to waste. your love with luke was special and you knew it. something else was going on behind the scenes.

then it got even worse. luke wouldn’t even leave his bed. his once happy self had completely diminished, he began to push you and the boys away. at this point you knew that something was wrong and it wasn’t your relationship. you called luke’s mom and she had told you the hard truth that luke had tried his best to hide from you. when luke was 12 he was diagnosed with clinical depression. the gene had run in the family and luke had inherited it. there was no explanation as to why. sometimes he just got sad and he needed space. it was all about patience liz had told you. so you listened. you held onto luke at night, you would kiss his shoulder and you would mumble an “i love you” or an “i’m always here baby”. and he would whisper the same words back. you thought things would get better after some time but three days later and things were still the same. luke refused to eat or interact with anybody. the boys would come over but they wouldn’t get anything out of luke. even the fans noticed that luke wasn’t the same, he went online even less and would rarely stop to take pictures when fans caught the rare glimpse of him outside. everybody was worried and what was even worse is that they were blaming you. most of them said you were probably abusive, others said that luke had become miserable in your “pr relationship” none of it was true and it only hurt luke even more that he couldn’t find it in him to defend you because he feared the fans finding out about his depression.

days turned into weeks and at this point you were begging luke to go back to his therapist, but he refused. he said these things happened all the time to him. but you knew it was more than that. things like this happened but not to this extent. you knew he needed help. you decided to take matters into his own hands and told luke you were going to go out and grab some lunch with calum. something regular as you two were very close. luke didn’t mind, but as you said your byes he held you just a bit longer than usual and his kissed lingered a bit more. you figured it was him just trying to reassure you that he was fine. you told him you love him and then made your way to the cafè to meet with calum. when you got there, you told calum everything. how hard it has been on him, but you even cried and told him how hard it has been on you. that you didn’t understand, that luke was everything to you, that you wanted to help but that you didn’t want to pressure him. calum comforted you and soaked in every word. luke was his best friend and he felt this just as hard as you did. so after 2 hours of discussion you and calum had come up with a plan to bring a therapist to luke next week. it was all you guys could truly think about. you bid your farewells and you promised you would text him when you arrived safely.

when you go to your door, something didn’t feel right. you opened the door to your home and immediately knew something was wrong. you called for luke but there was no answer. now you knew for sure that something had gone wrong, luke always responded to your arrival. it was the one thing you held onto everyday. your rushed to the bathroom door and you burst in, not caring about what the situation behind could be. you wish you hadn’t. you wish you had opened with a bit more caution. right infront of your eyes was like, but it wasn’t luke. all you could see was his body on the floor and the a container of pills clutched in his palm. you fell to your knees, shaking him with one half while you dialled 911. you could only pray that you weren’t too late. in his other hand you found a few notes. the first page read:

“sing this when the time is right. i love you sophie.”

you flipped to the next page and it was a song written by luke, you can tell by his handwriting right away that it was recent, his letters having a little bit of a tremble to them. on the top of the page the title was louder than any other word on the sheet: Invisible.

—

the time had come. a sea of black before your eyes. hundreds of people had filled the church, and there were more waiting outside. it had been weeks since the incident, but you still didn’t understand. how the love your life just slipped between your fingers? how he thought he was alone? the boys tried to comfort you in any way that they could. but they knew nothing would ever fill the emptiness luke had left you with. most days you couldn’t get up from bed, most of the time it was ashton who was shoving food down your throat. most nights calum had to sleep in the guest room because the nightmares had become too much to handle by yourself. and it was michael who had checked you into the hospital when you broke down, and lost all the air in your lungs while you begged god for the love of you life back. the doctors said it was trauma, you walked in on your boyfriend dead. others say it’s for attention. but you knew what it was: devastation. luke had only managed to pass his sorrow to you and thousands of others. as people went up one by one and said their words about luke, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. you were holding onto calum as your sobs shook your entire body. you couldn’t go up there anymore. you couldn’t save luke, it was the boys who deserved to sing his song. his final words to everyone.

but the boys knew what luke wanted. he wanted it to be you. he wanted you to be the one to sing his explanation. the song was written for your voice and nobody else’s. so when it was your turn and when everybody’s wet eyes turned to you, you swallowed your sadness and told the crowd everything. how you and luke met. how he gave you this feeling of electricity. how even on your saddest days he found beauty. how you still can’t find it in you to believe that he’s gone. you still think this is all some sick joke. you told them what his note said. that he claimed he was gone along time ago. that most nights even though you held onto him, it was still him and his shadow and everything he did or said that he regretted. that he didn’t know who he was anymore. he just knew he didn’t want to be here anymore. that he was sorry and that he knows he’s loved. but what he also knows is a type of sadness that he can’t find words for, all he can really say is it’s the time that grabs onto your chest and makes you feel things you don’t ever want your worst enemy to feel. he wants the band to keep going. he knows they won’t but he wants them to give the fans everything in them. most of all, he wanted to let everyone know that the fans were his anchor. he’s sorry he disappeared but they never left his mind and they will never leave his heart. he hopes that nobody ever feels the way he did. he writes about love and tragedy and that once you find something you love, don’t let anyone take it away from you ever. he writes about the love of his life and how you would take the pain away and put it on your shoulders. he wants to tell everyone they now officially have a guardian angel.

“and in luke’s final wishes,” you take a deep breath. this is for luke. this is for luke. this is for luke. your eyes catch the band, a reassuring smile on their faces. “he’s asked that i perform his final piece of art.” you look up to the ceiling, you know he’s sitting on a cloud with his tongue out teasing you about being nervous. “come on sophie, don’t be nervous loser.” he would tease if he could.

“ladies and gentlemen, this song is called: Invisible”

[sidvishass]

Shelby Babies in World War Two

I know that Finn, Michael and Isaiah probably went to fight in WW2 but it breaks my heart when I think about Charlie, Karl and John’s sons going aswell. So here’s a headcanon so you guys can feel my feels too, sorry! Also, been a while since I did research on ww2 so I was going with stuff off the top of my head, my apologies for inaccuracies my dudes!

Tommy wouldn’t have wanted Charlie to enlist and he’d have struggled to let him go at the train station

He’d grip his son’s uniform with shaking hands because he’d know what was awaiting him and didn’t want him to face it, wouldn’t’ve wanted him to endure it

He’d kiss Charlie’s forehead and tell him he loved him, something neither of them said often

“I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Come back sooner, my son.”

Charlie would try to make jokes to lighten the mood and to see Tommy smile but he’d be scared shitless, his skin deathly pale and the uniform feeling too heavy and too tight at the same time

“I’m going with Finn and Michael and Karl it’ll be one big piss up dad!”

Tommy’s heart would clench as the train left the station because he truly felt like it was being torn out from behind his ribs

Charlie would be expecting the snow and the harsh cold of Europe but would eventually end up in North Africa, in Egypt

He’d be amazed by the massive expanse of blue sky and yellow sand, the tanks and the pyramids

“It’s fuckin’ hot here ain’t it”

“I ain’t never seen a camel”

Charlie would stay close to Karl, both of them under the watchful eyes of Michael Finn and Isaiah, all of them sleeping and eating together and at first it would be a laugh

They’d spend most of their days doing scouts and sweeps and sitting around base goofing off

They’d all get sunburned which would often turn into blisters but they’d all tan up nicely

Isaiah would flirt endlessly with the pretty foreign nurses and get them to tend to his blisters almost daily

They’d all be absolutely blown away by the Maori Hakas, getting shivers and riled up with intense energy

Charlie would write to Tommy every chance he got, at first unknowing that a lot would be censored for being sensitive information

“Camels are a lot like horses except they spit at you if you piss them off”

“I met some truly mad Australians but I can hardly understand a thing they say! The only thing worse than their accent is the Kiwi’s.”

“Have you ever seen a Haka? It’s a war dance from New Zealand.”

“Everyone is fine here but if this sun doesn’t fuck off soon I’ll shoot it out of the sky myself, I’ve never wanted to see the clouds of Birmingham so much before in my life.”

But in 1940 when Graziani advanced into Egypt Charlie would experience his first taste of warfare

Finn would be extremely protective of Charlie and would end up getting himself shot in the shoulder trying to push Charlie away from the line of fire

Charlie would feel tremendous guilt but would bravely keep watch, continuously firing, while Michael helped patch Finn up as best he could

“I’m sorry Finn.”

“It was the fucking wops, not you mate”

Charlie would be involved in the take over of Tobruk in 1941 and by then he’d be a lot harder and sterner

Like Tommy he’d end up laughing less and less and become a lot more sullen as time went on

After a long day out under the hot sun a photographer would take their photo, claiming they were

“The most charming boys in Tobruk!”

They’d have been enjoying their lunch and a cigarette each, talking and bickering amongst one another

Their shirts would be wrapped around their heads, bare chests and faces burnt, dog tags dangling from their necks and guns slung over their shoulders

Finn would have his arms around Charlie’s and Karl’s shoulders, both of them smirking boyishly, legs crossed at the ankles and leaning against a tank

Isaiah and Michael would sit squat above them, on top of the tank, arms up high holding water containers and lit cigarettes hanging loosely from their mouths

That would be one of the best days of Charlie’s time away at war, one truly happy moment among many painful ones

When the letters came Charlie would read his and hold back tears at the sight of his father’s handwriting and the small comforts of home that Tommy had sent him

Unlike Finn, Charlie got a good education so he’d read Finn his letters after they ate dinner together

On a rare night that everything was calm and the air was a little more bearable Finn, Karl and Charlie would sneak off with some of the Australian troops to drink stolen whiskey

They’d get so drunk that Charlie would agree to getting a tattoo from one of the Australian troops

“You sure about this mate?”

“Yeah I’m sure just don’t fuck it up!”

Finn would hold the lamp and be snickering at Charlie’s face scrunched in pain

He’d get an angel on his ribs for Grace

Charlie would celebrate his 18th and 19th birthdays in Tobruk with Michael, Finn, Karl and Isaiah, digging tunnels and moving artillery, none of them giving him any slack

Finn would give him a small present though; a fancy new sheath for his knife and a lighter engraved with “in the bleak midwinter”

On the night of his 19th though, they’d all get another tattoo, this time a nasty looking rat on their forearms

“We’re the fuckin’ Rats of Tobruk boys!”

Finn and Isaiah would pinch some more whiskey and they’d spend the night sitting in the sand, guns by their side, boots unlaced, smiling and laughing and reminiscing about home

Charlie would go on to watch, first hand, as the friends he made died one by one

He’d’ve held the hand of a young Australian as he spluttered frantically in the sand and promised an English boy, even younger than himself, that he’d make sure his belongings got back to his mother in Bristol

He’d be right beside Michael when he got shot in the hip and fell to the ground and Charlie would have to continue fighting while Michael screamed in pain at his feet, begging for mercy from whoever would hear him

Michael would be moved after that

“Please let Aunt Polly know that Michael got shot. He’s ok but they’re moving him. We don’t know where. Hopefully he’ll be coming home.”

After the Australians left to defend the Pacific, Isaiah and Finn were moved too, leaving Charlie and Karl behind and alone

They’d always been the babies of the family so with none of the older boys to help them along they felt even more lost and even further from home

Charlie’d never been particularly religious but after that he prayed in whispers almost nightly

He wrote to Tommy as much as he could be he didn’t know what to say, England was being bombed, the entire world was at war and Charlie found it increasingly hard to be happy and youthful

When Charlie eventually returned home he didn’t arrive with anyone he left with and he wasn’t able to notify anyone at home of his arrival so he got off the train by himself and walked down Watery Lane toward the old family betting shop

His pack had never felt so heavy and his feet had never felt so much like lead

“Oi Rat!”

He’d look up and see Finn standing on the opposite end of the street, the betting shop in the middle of them

Charlie would blow out an amused breath of air and smirk, shaking his head in disbelief

“Fuckin’ hell mate I’m glad to see you!”

They’d meet halfway and hug, packs being dropped and heavy claps landing on each other’s backs

“Were you on the train?”

“Nah Charlie, they flew me in!”

The door to the betting shop would open and an absolutely drained Tommy Shelby would stand their looking at them awestruck

Tommy would cry and tug his baby brother and only son in for a hug

He’d hold their faces and shake them struggling to comprehend that they were home

Tommy would speak to them in Romani, utterly lost for words but unable to stay quiet for once

Michael would’ve returned home after being shot but would’ve continued fighting and helping the home front

A month later Isaiah would return with Karl and two of John’s sons in tow

Although all of the Shelby boys returned home whole none of them returned the same and Tommy understood that

He would give Charlie time to fix himself and readjust and he’d never bring it up unless Charlie did

Charlie would cry when he got the photograph taken on the tank in Egypt and he’d put it away with all his other war stuff, willing himself to forget it

[ellynore-moonwood]

Ellynore’s 2017 Summary

This year has been a wild ride for me in so many ways, and I figured now would be a good time to sum up how I’ve felt about 2017 as a whole while it’s about to come to a close at the end of this weekend. I’ll try to keep it brief and concise, but if it ends up becoming a lengthier read, I do apologise. ^^;           I’ll also clarify that I don’t want to seem pretentious or anything of the sort. This is just an honest summary of how I’m looking back on the year in my own perspective and how things have gone with me. 2017 has had it’s ups and downs, but like every upcoming year, we all hope it turns out better than the last in some way or other. 

January - Not a lot of things happening, except getting a brand new laptop and searching for new material to use for voice acting as I spent most of it doing some writing on the side and browsing Tumblr looking for audio posts that could give me new ideas. I had a couple projects that were in-progress but not a lot of progress was being made, unfortunately. That didn’t stop me, though, since I continued contributing my voice to some YouTube videos made by @bettinalevyisdetermined as the awesome Undertale fish spearwoman Undyne. 

February - Vine died, I spent the first half of the month revising my relationship status and goals, as well as “A Date with Markiplier” fangirling all throughout the second half of the month. After a month of supporting @distortional I got to meet them and learn about them as a person, and eventually was inspired and motivated to try voicing out Darkiplier. If you haven’t heard it, you can listen to it here. I’ll warn you, it was my very first time and it does sound a bit cringy, but I’ll let you guys be the judge of that. 

March - The founding of @theglitchedsystem came to be and I got straight into work while also battling some stress but later overcoming it with some help and guidance from the other VAs who took part in the project. Definitely had a lot of fun being a part of this sub-community in a major way throughout this whole year. 

April - I turned 24 and upgraded my Samson Go microphone to a Blue Yeti Blackout! 

May - Further progression with voice acting and making new friends along the way. I also managed to properly master how to voice Darkiplier and became more confident with improv voice acting. 

June - Facing new challenges and preparing for Winter. Spoiler alert, felt more like an extended Autumn, instead, most likely due to the fact that most Aussie Winters have a lot of sunshine, and when there’s a lot of that, it gets really warm. Fun fact: at this time of year, it’s not uncommon to see people walking outside wearing summer clothes when it gets around 15 degress Celsius or higher. You’re welcome.  [EDIT] - I had forgotten to add that I was at a pop culture convention on that month and met my voice acting idol Jennifer Hale in person! I got a heartwarming signature and message from her, a hug, and even requested a short audio of her voicing one of my favourite voices she did for a game I played. Meeting her ignited a new spark in me to further pursue my dream in becoming a voice actor and I felt so happy that day. 

July - Met more new friends and followers throughout my voice acting career while also facing some minor networking issues like followers not getting along with each other. Seriously, a community is about making friends and being with great, like-minded people. If there’s any drama happening, take it outside, no questions asked. Less people get caught in the crossfire that way. On a lighter note, “Darkiplier vs. Antisepticeye” was the talk of the town even after the end of that month. 

August - Friendships have strengthened, especially with the “Kill Jacksepticeye” video which made an escalated return of Antisepticeye. If you have friends who are as hyped about something as you are, stick with them. You won’t have to deal with the shock alone and the experience is better when shared with friends. On a sad note, my grandmother had passed away which affected me and my whole family since she was my last grandparent and I’ll never forget her. Rest in peace, Nanna. <3

September - Continued voice acting as usual while also taking up a couple more responsibilities that I picked up from August and carried it further as a way of helping followers whenever they’re feeling down or facing a tough situation where they need some advice. I learned a lot about some people in particular and I wish them nothing but happiness. 

October - Preparing for the Halloween season which felt a little bit underwhelming compared to last year. Let’s hope next year will be better. I will say, I did get to watch a bunch of horror movies and cartoon specials and those were a lot of fun and were a great way of relieving stress. Got to collaborate with @melissatreglia for the very first time with the event she hosted called “Darktober” where I helped with audio editing as well as manage a HUGE voice acting project titled “The Hostage.” 

November - This month in particular was spent trying to get voice acting excerpts done and ready to post before going on a week-long holiday away with my family at the end of the month while also tackling with job searching in bulk. It got a bit emotional and stressful for me leading up to the last few days, but I finally got a chance to relax and spend time with my family while not having to worry about voice acting. It was a good break away from home.

And here comes the final month of 2017, which includes venting. 

December - Compared to every other month, December was absolute hell and filled with truckloads of (pardon my language) bullshit. While there were some upsides like going to my first midnight theatre screening to see “Star Wars: The Last Jedi” and having a fun and enjoyable Christmas break, everything else was nothing but chaos and drama which left me in a mental state of shock and anxiety at extreme levels. I’m not going to sugarcoat it as it was a huge deal and some parts of it are still fresh in my mind.           In short, four people who were formerly part of the TGS (The Glitched System) sub-community went to war against my friend and leader, Distortional, as well as aiming pitchforks at anyone who didn’t side with the bad guys. It was at that point where I was engulfed with rage and wanted to fight back for the sake of my friends because I felt that they were wronged. If it wasn’t for the fact that I heard about it late at night, I would have been punching a lot of things around my room, I was that angry. But, that backfired as the fingers were soon pointed at me for three days straight. Needless to say, I didn’t take the bashlash very well. A first for everything, I suppose. Luckily, several other witnesses who also got hurt were incredibly supportive, they gave me the full story about what really happened, and I soon learned who my true friends are. Looking back at my lackluster performance with the aftermath of the whole debacle, it took me a week after finally blocking those abusive, immature people to clear my head and recover from the shock and emotional abuse*. The witnesses I spoke of have already moved on but let’s pray that those responsible will look back and rethink their actions for next time. This ordeal has allowed me to retain the experience I had that I will use to, hopefully in the future, better deal with manipulative people and call them out if they end up going around backstabbing people.             In other words (again, pardon my language), anyone who fucks with me and my friends will be remembered but not in a good way. If you can’t be friends with other people and don’t enjoy being part of a certain community, the most responsible thing you can do is just leave quietly and move along. And by quietly, I seriously mean quietly. My blog and community are a drama-free zone 24/7. Respect it. 

TL;DR, When drama hits and your friends are hurt, you feel inclined to stand by them till the bitter end, even if it ends up with you biting the bullet. That’s loyalty. Plus, and this is a bit pessimistic even for me, not everyone is going to like you, but haters gonna hate and the people who really want to stick around for you are your true supporters. 

* [Note: Please don’t confuse it for PTSD as it happened in the present time, not as a flashback to a past event.]

And that’s 2017 for me. 

As for what I’m going to do for 2018, I have plans on doing more voice acting but hoping to go bigger and better by taking on roles I’ve done previously and adding new ones in the mix for variety purposes. 

I’m also going to dedicate more focus on my YouTube channel where I do more videos on voice acting in video games. I am continuing “Night in the Woods,” though future episodes are bound to be longer than twenty minutes as it is considered a more relaxing game with a lot of in-game dialogue. I just need to find opportunities when I can record with no unnecessary noise in the background as well as voice out more louder characters when I come across them. 

If you guys want to suggest something to me for 2018 to work on, whether it’s audios here or videos on my channel, my ask and submission boxes are always open. I hope you guys had a good 2017 and wish you guys nothing but the best for 2018. Stay safe, keep your chin up and having a pleasant New Year’s! :D

- Ellynore Moonwood

[deans-missing-pie]

DimensionV Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - The Blue-Eyed Angel

The snow nearly reached his ankles, feet sinking into the soft, cold, crisp whiteness with a crunch as he stared at the prints left behind as he faltered through it. He was pulled from his thoughts by the shrill tone of ringing, his head snapped to the side, before his arms came down to pat the side of his hoodie, pulling out his phone, continuing to glance at the caller ID for a brief second, letting his eyes close slightly before answering and bringing the phone to his ear.

''Kasumi?'' He spoke, hearing a small crackle at the other end of the phone call. A voice spoke over the static

''Hey Matt, could you come back up to the club room?” Kasumi asked, her voice letting him know it was something important. He looked around at the snowy ground before answering.

“Yeah, what’s it about?” He asked, but she didn’t give him an informative response a simple, we need to talk. A shrill tone signalling to Matt that the conversation had ended as Kasumi hung up before he could get a word in.

He sighed to himself, placing the phone back in his trouser pocket, before taking in his surroundings once more, a steam of air releasing into the cold air, billowing out into the sky; with one final glance he walks away.

He briefly knocks on the door, opening it and staring at the mess as he stands in the doorway, watching a group of girls fall on top of each other as they return from DimensionV, knocking over piles of papers and books in the process, scattering them across the room, in a whirlwind of mess.

''M... Matt, you're here already?'' The girl that falls through last stares in surprise as she brushes herself off, helping the others do the same, with a quick pat on the back and brush of the shoulder.

The girl was Kasumi, a girl he’d known since childhood, and even now as an adult, worked with.

''Yeah, I ran up here as soon as you hung up on me.'' He chuckled, peeling the odd sticky note off his blazer as one of the girls walk towards him, watching him carefully, almost studying him.

''Hello there Matt, I’ve heard a lot about you.'' He looks at her, and takes in her features, he feeling his face heating up and she watches his reaction is amusement.

''Matt, this is Ikari, she's our upper-class man'' Matt snaps out of his little love trance as a shorter bashful woman shoves past him, in an attempt to leave the literature room.

''DUMBASS!!!!~” She exclaims, opening to door and slamming it shut, fleeing into the hallway.

''Wh-'' Matt is cut off by Kasumi immediately.

''That was Nishida. Don't worry, she'll warm up to you eventually.'' She chuckled, blushing slightly, as she glances away from Matt

''What was it exactly you needed me to be here for?'' Matt turned and asked her. She smiles at him as she grabs his hand, he looks at her in confusion, before feeling something inside him move, his vision becoming hazy as the world around him seemed to discorporate, solid colours and shapes all merging and sliding together in almost a sickening motion, as they mushed together become a solid mass, the shades and shadows of the room disappearing and slowly being replaced with a sterile whiteness, his breathing stiffened as something deep within him shifted, and suddenly he felt lighter, more faint headed, as his vision clouded and he could no longer think straight.

He hears a small voice, beckoning from the flash of blinding white, he raises a hand to shield his eyes, as it stung at his eyes.

The voice seemed familiar, but too faint to hear, he tries to move, he thinks he just stepped forward, but the voice doesn’t get any louder, what was it.

God? He thinks to himself, know there’s a thought, but it wasn’t like he was dead or anything. Right?

And then a sudden realisation came upon him from nowhere,

Not God, an Angel.

It beckoned to him, as he felt a presence behind him, and suddenly in front of him, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Close your eyes” It encouraged, speaking to him louder this time.

“It’s alright, close your eyes Matt” It spoke further, and this time he lets his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing became steadier and the angel spoke again.

“Give in to the Blue-Eyed Angel” And Matt snaps his eyes open, to be met with a flash of blue, and then the colour changes. Red. And again. Orange. And again. Green.

It repeats in a cycle over and over again, and Matt feels sick, his head is spinning and his breathing becomes more erratic, he can’t see where the angel has gone. He doesn’t think there’s anyone there anymore, and he realises he’s alone again, trapped in the swirling of colour, making his head pound, and his vision dizzy, he stumbles forward, tripping over his own feet, and hitting the ground with a sharp thump. pain ricocheting through his leg, and he presses his hand against the ground, thankful for something solid, something to prove that this wasn’t a dream, and the pain confirmed that, he becomes dizzy again, sharp pounding in his skull like someone taking a hammer to it, he pushes himself off the floor. Suddenly, he’s vomiting, and gagging, shuffling away from the floor, coughing and wiping a hand over his mouth, the colours then start to change faster, feeling like the world is spinning. With a final gaze around the room, he feels his vision go dark as his body hits the ground with a thud, his body sprawled out, and he closes his eyes, letting the darkness take over. He prays that when he wakes he’ll be back in the literature club, or in bed, preferably the latter. Just as he loses consciousness, he hears the angel once more.

“Give in…” The angel’s words are cut off as a blinding flash of white and mint green lights bombard his vision. A show? He thought to himself as his hands come into view. Shocked, he rubs his eyes, pinching himself.

“Is this… A dream?” He questions as an unfamiliar hand pulls him up.

“Don’t worry Matt, something similar happened to me my first time” she chuckled.

“That laugh… Kasumi?” He looks around to see her standing, staring into his eyes.

“Yup” she chuckles, “what do you think?” She asks as matt takes in his surroundings.

Her avatar, being neat and as sensible as her normal self, was certainly taller than she normally is and a lot cuter too. Matt blushes as he looks away from her, standing to stare at the long flowing terrain.

“Welcome to DimensionV” Kasumi chuckled as he looks around in surprise, Still confused as their surroundings grow quiet.

[anyarusama]

Xmas poem part 01

001 ‘Twas the night before Xmas and all thru LA

002 Everyone was preparing for the fun holiday

003 The hookers all wore some green and some red

004 While the depleted drug dealers were preparing for bed

005 The gangs all traded their guns and their caps

006 For a cup of hot cocoa to share with their paps

007 Yet in one business stood an overworked girl

008 For she had a boss whose rage could unfurl

009 You see she had asked for Christmas Eve off

010 That day was denied which made the night rough

011 And now here she stands making pizza for none

012 While everyone’s Christmas is nearly But done

013 “Hate working” complained the overworked girl

014 “Should be at home Fuck Manager WURL!”

015 She played with a laser pointer she snuck to work

016 She had nothing to do! This made her berserk!

017 No one buys Pizza on Christmas Eve night

018 “Fuck Christmas” she said straight outta spite

019 ‘“Chill out and relax!” Said her special pig friend

020 “For all you need now! Is joint till the end

021 “When all turns out bad, Pull out your stash

022 “And go smoke it all all faster than flash”

023 The overworked said feeling reassured

024 “I’m down to do it! It’s Tonight’s perfect cure!”

025 They ran to the alley way into the back

026 And they would stay there till the joints turned all black

027 “Give me a lighter” said the special pig friend

028 “So we can begin my unique special blend”

029 she then began to realized she had not brought a lighter

030 But she did had something although a little less brighter

031 Remembered that pointer deep in her pocket

032 Which she would now use to get high as a rocket

033 She aimed her pointer straight right up at the sky

034 Which brought a red sleigh down, along with a guy

035 The laser had blinded the guy on the sleigh

036 In turn brought the sleigh down and left him astray

037 The bang had confused the overworked girl

038 As well as the pig friend both were all in swirls

039 The two muddled up to the guy in the sleigh

040 Guy wore all red and looked very cliche

041 The overworked pointed to the guys eye

042 But the man just laid there and did not comply

043 “The mans dead!” Yelled the overworked girl

044 But the light eventually, gave him reason to twirl

045 ‘Tis a zombie” shouted the special pig friend

046 So both of the friends now have to defend

047 The overworked girl gave him a hard punch

048 Which made the poor man deliver his lunch

049 She grabbed the mans hat and strangled the man

050 Now turning back she must finish what she began

051 Once all was done she knew who he was

052 ‘Tis was ol Saint Nick! AKA Santa Claus!

053 The Overworked girl checked the man for a pulse

054 The man her none so this made her repulse

055 Her assumption had now become true

056 Santa was dead and his face was full blue

057 “What now!” Panicked the overworked girl

058 “I wish not arrest by our officer Earl”

059 “No worries” said the special pig friend

060 “For hiding the body is what I recommend”

061 “But first burn the evidence, it’s easy like so”

062 Store the body in the freezer is whatnot should know

063 But chop the body and keep it hidden

064 In barrel which will now stay forbidden

065 The overworked girl complied without second thought

066 She did not want jail time and feared getting caught

067 At the very moment a family of six entered the store

068 Which made the overworked girl stop all the gore

069 The family sat down and ordered a pizza

070 They wanted the best like they were in Pisa!

071 the special pig friend began making the pizza

072 And The overworked girl waited and prayed for amnesia

073 She served up the pizza and caught something strange

074 It was Saint Nick finger which made her derange

075 “Sorry we are now closed” Said the overworked girl

076 “And i must take the pizza it has a Diseased sausage curl”

077 “But we have no meal tonight” said the little poor boy

078 This was our meal for tonight now we have no more joy”

079 But the family did not leave feeling hungry or sad

080 The overworked girl gave them all money for she felt really bad

081 The overworked girl had brought her conscience

082 A solution she needed for Santa strange absence

083 As the family left she got a terrific idea

084 Everyone’s Christmas was saved! Even Korea’s!

085 She ran to the sleigh and put out the fire

086 She will save Christmas for she was inspired!

087 With Santa dead and the toys all destroyed

088 She will give her stuff which she quickly deployed

089 Off to her home the girl sure did hush

090 And filled up the sleigh all done in a hush

091 Her big screen TV went in as well as her food

092 For hopes that this Christmas will be any good

093 She packed up her fun video game console

094 As well as her liquor to prove she’s no asshole

095 Off in the sky she delivered her stuff

096 While her special pig friend smoked all his puffs

097 She read off the list made by good ol Saint Nick

098 And Matched up her stuff in hopes it would stick

099 Lil boy jimmy had asked for planting seeds

[florescentiia-blog]

where: the godswood when: early morning with: @icekraken

Excited. There was no other way to explain it: it was dark, morbid, but it was true. When news hit of Rhaella's death, the funerals announcement, Beth's body was practically vibrating from the uncontainable joy that radiated through every inch of her body, head to toe. Morbid, yes, for her to be so excited for the death of someone so important, but it was something she couldn't fight. Throughout her full life, she had dreamed countless dreams of leaving Winterfell, feeling the warmth on her skin for more than a second, seeing all the things that could grow where the earth never went cold, where nothing died. She longed to see the sands of Dorne, but her father had no interest in leaving, and until now, she had no reason either. Sure, Kings Landing was not the lavish warmth of Dorne, nor would it have the beautiful, passionate Dornishmen, but it was something. It was somewhere - whether love laid there or not, she was yet to find out, but eager to do so she was.

It wasn't to say the news of the woman's death made her happy, because that part made her quite sad. Death always did: Beth felt everything so strongly; most of the time, it was for the worst. When those around her thought sadness, Beth felt it like an unbearable weight pushing her on the ground, in the dirt. When it became bad enough, she feared she would die. Threw her back into time when her mother had passed, she still felt her father's pain sometimes. It was lighter now though  -  it was a proud pain her father had, every time he looked upon her, he would smile a sad, melancholic thing it was.  She reminded him of her, she knew that because he told her such all the time. Sometimes she loved it, found comfort in that, other times, she hated it.

No matter what, though, the excitement pooled in her veins, and eventually, it was the only thing pushing her to carry on. It was unbearably early when she arrived in Kings Landing, the sun not even peaking in the sky. With no idea what to do, where to go, an always spiritual young Cassel found herself wandering until she stood in the Godswood. It was not the same as it was in Winterfell, then again, nothing anywhere ever would be. Instead of looking at the delicate white bark and the beautiful, magical red leaves, Beth was gazing out over a river. She knew it was because the Red Keep hadn't been as ancient as all the other castles, as old as Winterfell.

In that lonely moment, overlooking the grey water, Beth let the homesick settle in her bones, let herself picture the calming feeling of being in the Godswood out home, how she could almost feel her mother sitting with her beneath the tree. And in that one, lonely moment, Beth missed Winterfell, overlooking the beauty that was traveling, the excitement she had to sightsee. Nothing but a child in unfamiliar territory, Beth lost the comfort of her mother, the warmth of familiarity. She knew no one here, she realized, and began to pray someone who she actually knew would tumble into her in the foreign city.

Gods tilted their head in the universe for a second, contemplating if the girl deserved to be as sad as she felt for that brief second, pondering the anxiety they were causing: was it necessary? The gentle eyes turned to find was a quick answer to Beth that whatever Gods existed out there, heard her prayers, and answered them. Ocean blues guide up to greet the familiar gaze of a friend; maybe foe, but definitely not all at once. A rush of relief washed over her so strong she could feel the current of the grey waters below; lucky for her, the one the Gods sent to her was bound to be good at handling murky seas.

"Theon," His name is but a laugh on pink lips, body going lax in the company of a friend. She felt no danger, no intimidation. Perhaps when they were younger, she felt bursts of intimidation: Theon was an extremely skilled man, even when he was nothing but the baby Kraken. She had envied him, back then, for his abilities too. Now she knew she could compare herself to him, and it wouldn't be laughable. Skill-wise, they stood even ground, and perhaps that's what stripped away the awkward autonomous actions that Beth usually had. As a child, she viewed him as a boy who could quickly become a man of her interest, as a woman, she regarded him a man worthy of her respect,  a good man worthy of trust. A good component. "I feared I wouldn't know anyone here. You truly are a sight for sore eyes." Her feet carried her slightly forward, away from the water, and closer to where the man stood. "I had no idea you would be here, too."